


Signs Of Life

by jalendavi_lady



Series: Signs Saga [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2004-03-03
Updated: 2004-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-13 05:15:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 42,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalendavi_lady/pseuds/jalendavi_lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternative universe story where Vader survives at the end of Return of the Jedi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story is not likely to be completed. I'm archiving it here on AO3 so that it doesn't disappear if the Jedi Council Boards where it was originally posted ever go down or have fanfiction threads disappear.

  
  
Alarms sounded. People ran this way and that, looking for any way to get off the massive, doomed battle station. In a relatively undisturbed corner of the hangar, a young Jedi knelt, crying over the unnaturally quiet body of a no-longer-Dark Lord.   
  


After a moment, Luke looked up through his tears at his father’s still face. _We never even touched, not without something between us._ He tentatively reached up and caressed the top of Anakin’s head, lightly brushing the scar. His white skin was amazingly smooth and warmer than Luke had expected. _It’s been five minutes. His body should already be cooling._ The thought nearly sent Luke into a fresh burst of tears.

Luke’s hand stopped and he gasped in shock. Somehow, a vein lying close to the skin at Anakin’s temple next to the scar still had a faint pulse. _Father… he’s still alive. There’s a pulse._ He held a hand close to Anakin’s mouth and could feel the air movements caused by his breathing—faint, but undeniably present. _He’s alive._

Luke dragged him into a shuttle, fastening him into a medical bunk and gently placing an oxygen mask on him before rushing to the cockpit, changing the settings of the friend/foe transmitter, and lifting off.

The shuttle landed on the moon only a few minutes later. _Thank the Force I managed to find a place to land near a water source and without any apparent troop movements anywhere nearby. Neither of us is in any condition to fight right now._ He got up from the pilot’s seat, feeling the beginnings of cramps in his legs. _This is not good._ Luke stumbled back to the medical bunk.

He nearly collapsed with relief and from the growing pain. According to the sensors in the bunk, Anakin’s heartbeat and breathing were slowly becoming stronger. The elder Skywalker moaned slightly.

Luke braced himself by leaning against the wall where the alcove of the bunk began. It wasn’t much, and his legs still hurt, but it gave a little relief nonetheless. _Please don’t let him sense I’m hurt._

Luke gently touched his father’s unscarred, powder-white right cheek. “Shh. I’m here. You’re gonna be fine. Shh.”

Anakin’s eyes fluttered open somewhat. “Lu…ke…?” The corners of his mouth raised slightly in a subtle smile. Luke’s heart contracted. _That’s the same smile he gave me when he saw me, just before…_

“I’m here, Father.” He started shaking and could feel tears running down his face. “I’m here.” He sank to his knees , pressing his face into the springy softness of the bunk’s edge.

Luke suddenly found himself wrapped in a weak but warm Force-embrace. “Lu…ke?” There was concern in Anakin’s voice.

“I’ll be okay in a moment,” Luke told him as soon as he could calm down enough to speak. “Just a bit overwhelmed.”

“How… long… since…”

“The battle?” Luke looked up in time to see Anakin’s slight nod. “Under two hours, I think. You were certainly not unconscious for much more than an hour, if that.”

“The… Death Star?” Anakin let his eyes drift closed.

“Blew up just as we got out.” Luke carefully squeezed Anakin’s shoulder. “Shh. Rest. You’re injured.”

“And you… are not?”

“You can barely move, Father. I can at least stumble around.” He tried to stand, but one of the muscles in his lower leg spasmed. He gasped in pain and dropped back down to his knees.

With concern and affection in his weak voice, Anakin quietly chided, “You were… attacked for longer… than I was… my son. Battle injuries… sometimes… take time… to show. Particularly… Force attacks.” With obvious effort, he slowly moved his left hand over so that it rested in Luke’s hair.

They both rested for a moment, content in each other’s presence.

“Luke?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you… let anyone… your friends… your sister… anyone… know you… are alive?”

“Not yet. Wasn’t sure if the comm. in this thing could be received by Alliance comlinks. And Leia’s not even partly trained, so Force-communication is not a viable option either.”

...

 _She’s stronger than you know, Luke,_ Anakin thought fondly. _She can sense attacks against her mind and swat them like tiny swamp flies. Even mind attacks from Sith. She kept me out on the_ Death Star _, even under the influence of truth drugs. If she can sense that and defend herself even under those conditions, surely a message can get to her, even if she can’t respond._ “Have you… tried yet? She might… be strong… enough.”

“I try, but there’s no response.”

“What are… you sending?”

“Just a traditional hello and make contact message.”

“Luke… she doesn’t… know the… etiquette… involved. She may… not have… even realized… she was… being contacted.”

“Oh.”

 _Time to let the Skywalker with actual experience try this_ , Anakin thought wryly. _My Jedi son. So Force-strong, so skilled, and yet so inexperienced._ //Leia?// he Force-called.

No response.

 _Have to do this the hard way, then_. He gathered in his mind all he knew of her, every interaction, every personality quirk. This was spun into an image of who she was. //Leia?// he sent again, seeking a mind somewhere in the general area with a similar image to that he had constructed.

No luck. The search was too wide, the image too indistinct. _And dated,_ Anakin reminded himself. _The Leia Organa I knew best was barely 13, and even after her years as a Senator, she’s changed_.

 _I’m going about this wrong,_ he realized. _Luke received from her during the fight. I picked that up. The signature of the broadcast he received would be the Leia existing now._ He tried to recall every detail of that signature. _Close enough._ //Leia?// he sent over a larger area.

A response, faint and familiar. _Leia just swatted another fly_.

A moment passed.

Another response, tentative and clearly untrained. //Who are you?//

//Luke is okay, injured but fine. Need medic.//

A leap of joy, followed by an emotional sinking Anakin could practically feel in his bones through the weak link in the Force. //Who are you?//

He almost cringed. _The first time, she was curious. Now, she’s scared._

He delayed answering, trying to decide how to respond.

//Who are you?//

//Leia… I’m sorry. For everything I did, and for everything I should have done.//

A pause.


	2. Chapter 2

//VADER!?//

He nearly winced as he felt all her mental defenses rise. _Oh dear. She’s not out to swat flies. She’s out to swat dragons in flight. This is going to be bad._ //Not exactly,// he offered gently.

//What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?// she bit out into the Force. //Not exactly the man who destroyed my homeworld? Not exactly the man who left my mother alone? Not exactly the man who killed so many? Not exactly the most recent Dark Lord of the Sith?//

//Leia, your brother was right.//

Another pause.

//Palpatine tried to kill Luke.//

//WHAT?//

//Force-lightning, he seems okay but he needs a medic—we both need a medic. He cried out for help, I threw Palpatine down the main power shaft, Luke and I got to the shuttle bays, got off the Death Star, and are now somewhere dirtside. I have no clue where. I wasn’t conscious when we landed. Luke’s been trying to contact you like this, but he doesn’t have the experience in Force-communication that I have.//

//But he’s okay?//

//He’ll live. But he needs to see a medic before any of the injuries become chronic.//

//And you?// she asked tentatively.

//Respirator broken. Depending on the oxygen mask of a medical bunk to survive. Too weak to speak complete sentences at once. Almost too weak to move. If Luke hadn’t put me in the bunk, I would be dead now.//

A pause.

A longer pause.

//Anakin?//

He sent her the mental equivalent of a nod.

//Father?//

//If and only if you desire to recognize me as such,// he answered humbly. //I ask only for the chance to try to make up for the mistakes I’ve made.//

//You can’t bring back those you’ve killed.//

//But I can keep others from dying by helping the Alliance. I know which officers merely follow orders and which actually believed in the New Order. Tell me, if you don’t mind, if there is any news of what happened to the Executor?//

//Apparently saw the approaching case of TRD, turned tail, and headed to the edge of the system. Hasn’t moved since.//

//’TRD’?//

//Trench Run Disorder. Little X-Wings giving Star Destroyers very bad days.//

//I may be able to talk the officers over to the Alliance. Would take some effort, but it could possibly be done. First priority is getting a medic out here though, since it would appear to not be possible to get your brother to a medic.// Anakin could feel his eyelids drooping. //Speaking of your brother, mind if I try to transfer my end of this to him and take a nap?//

//I don’t mind, but I really can only talk for a few more minutes. It’s late where I am right now and I think I’ve been awake and moving since long before this morning. I didn’t get much sleep last night.//

//Still, he’s the one who knows where we are.//

//One moment. Someone wants me.//

Anakin waited.

//Seems an Imperial shuttle landed maybe half an hour ago. Any chance it might be the one you and Luke grabbed?//

//Could be.// He reached out into the Force. //Clearing near water, I think. If I try hard enough, I can hear barely hear the fish in the Force.//

//Sounds like where Han said Wedge saw the thing land. It’ll be a while before any medics can be spared to head out there.//

//So Luke and I are looking at having to hold out on our own here for at least half a day.//

//From the information I’ve seen. We have some medkits and such here, but I don’t see how any of it would help any...//

//Even painkillers would be good... Luke can’t look for any here, and I certainly can’t.//

//I’ll see what I can do.//

//Still want to talk to Luke?//

//Does he even know this conversation is going on?//

//No.// He barely suppressed a yawn.

//We all need sleep. It’s been a long day for everyone. I’ll talk to him next time. He probably needs to put things together in his mind before he talks to anyone about what happened up there.//

//Too true. Goodnight, Leia.//

...

//Goodnight.// _Father_. She broke the connection.

Han was looking at her funny. “What is it?”

“Nothing. Nothing really.” She pulled her blanket closer around her shoulders as they sat near one of the Ewoks’ fires.

“Don’t tell me you’re picking up that Force stuff too.” He grinned at her.

“Han!”

His face turned suddenly serious in the firelight. “You are, aren’t you?”

She stared up at the beauty of the stars above, the sky dominated by the huge silvery orb that was the Endorian planet, before nodding.

Han scooted closer over the worn-smooth planks of the village square. “What does it tell you?”

She pondered for a moment. “That the world is far stranger now than it was this morning. That Luke is safe.”

“You love him, don’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” she answered tentatively. _What’s this about?_

“Two Force-users... you probably want to be together… I’ll get out of the way...”

“It’s not like that.” She almost giggled at the absurdity of her life. “He’s my brother. My twin brother, in fact,” she whispered to Han.

He moved still closer and held her close. “So was that what the big deal was last night? You were afraid you were going to lose him?”

“That’s some of it.”

“And the rest....?”

“The world is a very strange place,” she whispered with reverence, as if the fact were a sacred mystery. _Do I dare tell him? I dare. Come the morning, there will be no secret anymore, no matter what I do._ “One can have one nominal goal and fulfill another by breaking it.”

“Speak Basic, Princess. You’ve been around politicians for too long.”

“Luke left as a Rebel, with the goal of distracting Vader, keeping him from getting anywhere near the Alliance.”

“Right. You told me that this morning.”

“Luke also left as a Jedi, seeking to turn one of his kind from evil ways and back to the light.”

“So?”

She gazed full into his eyes. “We, the Alliance, have a new ally this day.” She swallowed, hard. "My biological father."

Silence.


	3. Chapter 3

The forest was beautiful at night.

Planetlight glistened in the early morning dew, making the ferns ahead seem studded with diamonds.

The tree trunks, such a drab brown in full daylight, turned a rich color in the dimmer light.

 _Ok, Leia, get your head off the trees and onto the trail_. Not that there really was a trail, just the relatively tree-free trail of a seasonal stream that had died to merely a trickle. She was running the speeder at far less than its maximum speed, enjoying the speeder ride through the forest.

A glimmer of silver barely seen through the trees. _The river. Finally._

Another 5 minutes and she shot out from the trees and over the vast stretch of water, shimmering as if it were a solid piece of mica. _Deep river. Wide river._ She turned south, following the river..

The sky soon began to glow a warm silvery purple that slowly turned pink, then faded into a brilliant blue as the sun began to rise over the trees.

She revved the engine. _I promised myself I would be there soon after dawn, if not before._

The trees streaked by on either side. She took off her helmet and secured it to the speeder, then tossed out her hair into the wind.

A glint of white through the trees on the left bank. She turned the speeder in a wide arc and slowed down until she came to a gentle stop just beside the shuttle.

 _Something’s wrong._ Leia tried to place her feelings... _Five presences, not two. They have visitors._

 _They’re both injured._

She leapt off the speeder and ran into the forced-open hatch of the shuttle, blaster drawn.

She entered the access hall the medical bunks were in just in time to see an Imperial in an AT-ST pilot’s uniform stun Luke. The other two Imperials in the hallway— _the copilot and gunner?_ —were holding someone down in the bunk. She couldn’t see exactly what was going on, but she knew she had to stop them. _Anakin seems to be holding them off, but once their friend can help them, he’s a dead or captured, whichever they’re aiming for._

Her first shot struck the man who had stunned Luke in the back. He fell, making a thud that let Leia know he was already dead. The next two shots dropped the men beside the bunk.

“Father?” Leia ran the few remaining feet to the bunk.

He was breathing weakly, face far paler than the rest of his skin. He was straining for every breath...

 _He still needs supplemental oxygen just to survive… They took the mask off him and were going to hold him down, no way to reach it, until he suffocated,_ she realized in a burst of shock and fear. _If they damaged the mask, he’ll die because I can’t get him to the other bunk. I’m not that strong._

She grabbed the mask and pressed it over his nose and mouth, turning the oxygen controls as high as they would go. _Please don’t be broken. Please._

It was a few very long moments before he started softly moaning. After five minutes, his left hand slowly moved to cover hers.

She almost drew back in surprise at the touch of the leather glove. It was softer than she’d expected, and certainly less strong than she had ever thought it would be. _He’s holding down the mask, whether he knows my hand is there as well or not, holding onto his chance to survive, and yet his grip is so weak..._

It wasn’t until Luke was beginning to stir slightly— _he’ll still be unconscious for a while, that was a full power stunbolt he took_ —some ten minutes or so later when Anakin really seemed to start becoming aware.

He groaned and tried to squint his eyes closed against the light. _Why would he be sensitive to light?_ Leia used her other hand to shade his eyes somewhat, then stood lightly and turned off the bunk’s light with her nose. She hesitatingly used the Force to pull a little shade around most of the bunk. _Are his eyes simply not used to this much light?_

A light squeeze of her hand. “Morning,” she said warmly.

“Morning, Leia.” His voice was richer without the full Vader mask, Leia decided. There was a warm natural rumble to it that the harshness of the vocoder had covered up. He smiled at her, gently. “For a first try at telekinesis, that was wonderful.”

For some reason, she suddenly felt herself blushing. “It wasn’t that impressive. Just a curtain being pulled along a rod.”

“Leia, throughout history Jedi learned telekinesis with moving a rock in any given direction but down as a first lesson.” Another squeeze.

 _He’s proud of me,_ she thought in shock. _He’s actually proud of me._

Then, she wondered why it suddenly meant so much.

...

A half hour later, Leia had managed to move Luke to the other medical bunk and had given him painkillers for the coming stun headache the minute he was aware enough to swallow. She had also dragged the three bodies to somewhere in the back of the shuttle; Anakin didn’t know precisely where.

 _She’s taking this too well,_ he realized. _Far too well. She’s only known she’s my daughter_ —the word still gave Anakin warm feelings— _for barely two days, if even that. Probably less, far less. I’m having problems dealing with all this change at 43, and she’s not even half that yet. Almost 21. I know I saw a copy of her adoption papers once somewhere... why can’t I remember?_

 _Alright, Anakin Simeon Skywalker, think. You know everyone made a fuss over her being the youngest senator ever, surpassing Padmé’s previous record. You know when the official senatorial session began that year. So, what day of the year..._

 _Soon_ , he realized suddenly, _very soon._

Leia wandered back in. “That’s finished.” There was something somehow endearing in Leia running around in combat fatigues with her hair loosely braided and wrapped into a rough bun. “What’re you smiling at?” she asked gently. They were still tiptoeing around each other, trying not to bring up anything of the past. Luke was unconscious, and had either of them started something only Luke would have had a chance of breaking it up.

“You... you remind me of your mother,” he admitted.

  
“Really?”

He nodded weakly, letting his eyes close. _Too much for one day. Shouldn’t have tried to stay awake like this, not after everything._ His brain still ached from the stunbolt he had mostly neutralized before Leia had arrived and his eyes were still very sensitive to light. The pain spiked for a moment and he grimaced before he could hide his reaction.

“Anakin? What is it?”

He tried to bite out an answer and failed.

“Let me guess,” Leia sighed. “You got stunned during the fight, but managed to release and neutralize most of the energy. However, you still managed to end up with a headache and are now playing the macho human male who can’t tell anyone when he is in pain. Am I right?”

“You really are your mother’s daughter, you know,” he sighed weakly.

She rummaged through one of the many medkits she had arrived with, pulling out a dose of pain meds.

“Leia?”

“What?” She looked up.

“What time is it, in Standard Galactic Time?”

She told him. _Five hours. Five hours and they’re 21._

He involuntarily glanced toward Luke. His son was just beginning to stir, really stir, from the effects of the stunblast that had been Anakin’s last true conscious memory before he had blacked out. Bruises from the fight had just begun to show on his arms and face. Anakin didn’t even want to start considering Luke’s other probable external injuries, much less the internal ones. He had sensed some of them through the Force earlier, but had been too distracted by the fight to keep a running total. _Great. My gift to my son on his 21st birthday is several weeks’ stay in a medcenter. Some wonderful father I am._ Tears started flowing down his cheeks.

“Father? What is it?” She was a moving green and brown blur to Anakin’s eyes as she came over with the pain meds. “Is it the headache?”

He shook his head as much as he could, trying to calm down enough that he wouldn’t cause her any more distress than he already had.

“Father?” He heard her set the meds down somewhere nearby and felt the tiny cot mattress shift as she sat down near his head. “Are you alright? Do I need to comm the medics to come faster?”

“No,” he finally managed to whimper through the deluge of tears.

He felt a warm soft hand gently stroke his scalp. _I don’t deserve her help, her comfort, her aid..._

“No to which question?”

“Both,” he choked out.

“Then what is it?” she asked, gently taking his hand in her own.

It was a long time before he could speak anything longer than a syllable clearly again. Hours, in fact. He had a dim recollection that at some point he had managed to cry himself to sleep and then woken up some time later, face slightly crusted over with tear-salts.

“Are you ready to talk about it?” Leia asked after a moment, giving his hand a squeeze.

He glanced in Luke’s direction, checking on the younger Jedi. He was awake, still in some manageable amount of pain to judge from the look on his face— _nice try hiding it, my son_ —and was rolled over on his side, blue eyes staring worriedly across the narrow access way at Anakin, pile of warm blankets pulled up to his chin. He looked worse. His skin was grayer than it had been the last time Anakin had been awake to check and his eyes seemed to have a kind of lethargy nesting in them.

“Not yet.” He closed his eyes. “What time is it?” Leia told him again. _Another ten minutes and they’ll be 21._


	4. Chapter 4

Luke curled up tighter under the blankets.

_Something’s wrong. He wasn’t acting like this last night._

//Father? What’s wrong?// He felt so weak…

//Just give me a little while, Luke.// A tentative, half-hearted Force-embrace that almost harmed more than it helped. Luke’s dim and druggy response was followed by another Force-wail from Anakin.

The whine of speeder engines. “That should be Han and the medics,” Leia commented.

“Does he know?” Anakin asked, sounding as though he was choking on each word.

“Yes.”

“And…?”

“It took him a while to calm down, but he’s willing to give you a chance to prove you’ve changed.”

“Like I’ll be well enough to prove myself anytime soon,” came the softly whispered reply.

The sound of the hatchway opening intruded on whatever reassurances either Luke or Leia could have tried to give him. “Leia?”

“We’re back here, Han.” She walked forward, giving Anakin’s hand a squeeze and patting Luke’s shoulder on the way.

“Father, what’s wrong with you?” Luke whispered. “You weren’t depressed like this last night. What’s wrong?” Luke felt tears gathering in his eyes as he pleaded with his father weakly.

“Happy birthday, Leia!” came Han’s muffled voice.

Luke looked over at Anakin, knowing the older Jedi would see his confusion plastered all over his face. //Leia always told me her birthday was nearly three months from now. //

//Today, as in the day that started only a few seconds ago, is the birth date listed on her adoption papers. I saw a copy once.// He seemed to do arithmetic on his fingers for a moment. //Right time of the year, too. //

//So this whole depression thing is linked to my and Leia’s probable real 21st birthday? //

Arguing voices wafted in from farther forward in the ship. _All’s well with the universe._

The Force-equivalent of a nod. //I’ve been a horrible father to both of you. //

//But you’re changing that. // Luke held his father in the strongest Force-embrace he could attempt at the moment.

//Some father I am. Left my children alone for years. Hunted them in the last years of First Youth. And my gift to my son on his 21st birthday is several weeks’ stay in a medcenter. //

//And the Father he’s longed to know all his life. //

More sobbing, less desperate-sounding than before. //Because he wasn’t there. //

//Doesn’t matter. You’re here now. The past is unchangeable, no matter how hard anyone may wish it to have been different. //

Leia walked in, followed by Han. “Hey. Kid. Still can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you getting into trouble, can we?”

Luke smiled weakly. The ex-smuggler ruffled his hair slightly before turning to the room’s other bed-ridden occupant.

Han pulled a small datapad out of a pocket on his jacket and pressed it into Anakin’s hand. “Mothma wanted you to have this before the medics drag you up to Home One. It’s not the original, but it is an official copy.”

Luke couldn’t see Anakin’s face when the elder Jedi began looking at whatever document was on the datapad, but he felt his shock through the Force. “What is it?” he asked weakly.

“A full pardon, direct from Mothma and both the military and political leadership. Nearly unanimous.”

“’Nearly’?” Leia asked.

“The Bothan furball wouldn’t sign. Tried to start a movement for immediate execution, in fact. Failed, of course. Ackbar looked like he was about to throw the furball out the nearest airlock, in fact,” Han answered.

“’Bothan furball’?” Anakin asked.

Leia excused herself to escort the medics in.

“Fey’lya. Don’t worry about it. The pardon holds anyway. And Mon Mothma made sure it was worded in such a way that it couldn’t be rescinded. Just relax.”

Luke could see his father close his eyes. “How can you even stand to be near me, after all I did...”

“Because I think people deserve second chances.”

The medics came in and started examining both Luke and Anakin, cutting off all future attempts at conversation.

Leia sat next to Luke as one of the medics gently grasped his arm. “You’re in bad shape. We need to sedate you in order to treat most of your injuries. Transport to _Home One_ will not be pleasant, given your condition. We can go ahead and give you the drugs now, if you wish.”

“Fine," Luke mumbled.

A prick on his arm, and the world slowly swirled into darkness as Leia loosely held him in her arms.

...

Leia watched with worry as both her brother and father slipped into induced unconsciousness. She stood carefully, letting Luke settle gently back onto the bunk.

“They’ll be fine,” Han reassured her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “They just need time and care.”

“The last thing they needed was the attack this morning.”

He held her close.

A choked off something behind them. Father! Leia spun around in alarm.

The medics had taken the oxygen mask off his face and were replacing it with a more complicated apparatus. He was obviously struggling against some part of the process.

 _It has a mouthpiece_ , she realized. _He’s unconscious... He thinks they’re putting him back in that horrible mask._

She walked over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. //It’s not the mask,// she tried to tell him. //They wouldn’t do a thing like that, and I wouldn’t let them if they tried. It’s just a clear plastic breath mask with a mouthpiece and a little thingy to go up your nose, to let you breathe easier than the other did. It’s not the mask. You’re okay and safe.//

He seemed to relax a bit and the medics managed to get it securely on his face. She held onto him for a moment more, both for his reassurance and hers. //See, it’s ok, it’s all gonna be ok. Just keep holding on. Please, Father, just keep holding on.//

She thought she felt some sort of instinctual reaction at that, saw the corner of his mouth twitch slightly.

“Princess Leia, we need you and General Solo to move out so we can move them properly,” one of the medics told her gently.

She drew away slowly, letting Han guide her outside.

“Where are the others?”

“Chewie, Lando, and the droids went ahead to Home One,” he told her. The rest of the group split to their usual commands. Everyone involved in the ground battle gets mandatory two weeks off duty, the rest of non-essential personnel are pulling staggered half-shifts.”

They walked over to the medical shuttle and into the passenger area in silence.

Leia sat in one of the passenger seats on the shuttle, head pillowed on Han’s shoulder.

“You doing ok, Your Highnessness?”

“Huh?”

“It’s been a long war, a long week, and a long day. You got grazed in the battle, didn’t sleep last night – don’t think I didn’t hear you pacing the entire time between when you said you were going to try to rest and when you left to find them, fought off three Imperials, and then tended two sick Force-users for an entire day. Are you ok?”

“I think. My arm stopped hurting a while ago.”

“You still need the medics to look at it. The battle may or may not have nearly won us the war. But it does give us time, Princess. For once, the Rebellion can actually sit somewhere and let wounds heal. Properly.”

“I’ll get it looked at tomorrow.” She yawned.

“It’s been a long day. You need to rest.”

“Mind if I take a nap?”

“Not at all, Your Highnessness.” He held her closer. “Not at all.”

She woke with a start some time later when he started to stand. “Wha?”

“We’re on _Home One_. They just transferred Luke and Anakin to the medcenter. Both still unconscious, but word has it they’ve settled in fine.”

“I slept that long?”

“You needed the rest, Sweetheart.” He kissed her forehead. “You didn’t sleep last night, and the night before you only got a few hours of rest. C’mon, they need us to get off this shuttle. Don’t you have quarters somewhere onboard?”

She nodded, reciting the location sleepily. He gently guided her out of the shuttle as she stumbled, trying to stay upright. At some point she felt him pick her up and begin carrying her.

She drifted off into sleep, cradled in his arms, not caring what anyone might think.

 _Let them gossip. I’m tired._


	5. Chapter 5

Leia woke slowly to the sensation of something warm next to her.

Then, she heard the snores. _Han… stayed…? Here?_

She drowsily opened her eyes, registered his face about a foot away, and snuggled back into her pillow.

A quiet moment.

 _HAN STAYED HERE!?!?_

She sat up quickly, keeping the sheets tucked close around her – she was fully dressed, but human instinct is human instinct. The motion pulled them from under Han, rolling him onto the floor with a firm undeniable _thud_.

A mumble, followed by a soft “Owww….”

“Han, what in the universe are you still doing here?” Leia demanded, looking down at the ex-smuggler.

“Guarding you. Some people not happy about what’s going on with your father and the _Executor_ defecting,” he mumbled, trying to get up.

“And you sleeping on my bed—without my permission, I might add—is going to help protect me from that?”

He lifted his head, gave her a wry smile, and said, “Would you rather I had been in your bed rather than on it?”

“URGH!” She threw a pillow at his head.

He caught it.

She grabbed another pillow and paused. “The _Executor_ defected?”

“Mon told the Admiral and General aboard it what happened on the _Death Star_. Apparently Piett and Veers’ loyalty was to Vader rather than to the Empire. That and some information that came out of the medcenter a few hours ago.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“Nearly a standard day.” He sat up.

No wonder he fell asleep. “What’s going on with Anakin and Luke?”

“Luke’s been started on some sort of critical care therapy—he’s apparently too sick to be put in bacta yet. Won’t give anyone but you and Mothma details—privacy policies and so on. Personally, I think it sounds like they might not let him regain consciousness for weeks.”

Tears started rolling down her face. Han got up and sat next to her, arm around her shoulders. “They think he’ll recover fully, but that it will take time, and care, and support from friends and family,” he told her softly.

She sniffed a moment, then, shakily, “And Anakin?”

“Fit to wake up whenever he wants to. They took him off the sedatives about an hour ago. One of the medics said she thought he’d wake up in about thirty minutes, if not sooner.”

“Then leave and let me change, He’ll recognize that I’m in the same clothing, think I haven’t rested all day…”

“Fine. I’ll wait just outside the door.” He got up and walked out.

Leia ruffled through her closet, looking for anything casual. She quickly grabbed a dark brown roughly woven brown shirt and a similarly made light brown shirt she had worn a few times while undercover. _Easy to wash, and comfortable._ She slipped on a pair of deck slippers, grabbed her ID, and headed out.

They headed towards the medcenter. “Mon Mothma, one of the chief medics, Veers, and Piett are meeting us there,” Han told her as they walked. “Chewie and Lando figured they’d better not be around until he really understands that he’s got friends here.”

“Wouldn’t they want quiet down there?”

“Second thing he’s going to ask… no, third thing… will be what his condition is and what the medics need to do to him.” They stepped into a turbolift. “He’ll need as much support as he can get.”

“How bad is it?”

“6 months total minimum before he can leave.” He leaned against the wall of the lift. “That’s healing and therapy. 5 months or more of therapy in the medcenter, and who knows how much more after they let him leave.”

“He’s not going to be happy about that.”

“He’ll be less happy when he finds out why.”

The lift door started to open. Leia smacked the door close button. “What’s going on?” An uncomfortable silence. “Spill it, flyboy!!!”

“From what the medics can piece together from his current condition and his Imperial medical records, he’s artificially dependent on full life support. He was put in the suit while he was still healing and adjusted to it as he healed. Might have been solved by 2 months intense therapy followed by a few years of low level therapy 20 years ago.”

“Force help him,” Leia whispered.

“Or so the rumor by way of Piett from Mon Mothma goes.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “His first question will be about Luke. The medics will tell him as much as they can without details, sugarcoat what can be sugarcoated. His second question, after he calms down enough to talk again, will be about how you are doing. You need to reassure him, as much as you can. Knowing that you are ok will help him stay calm, I think. After that, he’ll ask about himself, which is when he’ll need help.”

She managed a weak smile. “And you are sure of that sequence of events?”

“Betcha credit.” He smiled back.

“You’re on.”

They kissed.

Just as the door opened.

...

Mon Mothma would have chuckled, had it not been indecorous to do so. _Princesses kissing smugglers in turbolifts. What’ll be next, queens wedding slaves?_

Truth be told, she did wish the young couple the best luck possible. Leia had a bold streak in her few could hope to understand or keep up with and Han had a moral dignity that was hard to place.

Even to a world-weary old politician, it seemed that the Force had made them for each other, somehow.

Piett was laughing behind his hand, eyes twinkling.

Veers called out something in Huttese that made Han blush.

The two split, Han looking like he was going to start a diplomatic incident right then and there.

A medic wandered in. Everything was forgotten in the sudden clamor for information.

“Quiet, everyone. This is a medcenter, not a circus,” she ordered. “Commander Skywalker seems to finally be stabilized; we’re letting him rest for a while with physical aid until we’re sure, then we start the bacta dunks. He’s still in very bad shape. We’re giving him the best care we can. Until we can do a more thorough examination without hurting him, all that can really be said is that he is suffering from the effects of what seems to be the worst lightning strike any of us on the medcenter staff have ever heard of.”

“And Anakin?” Mon Mothma asked. _There’s nothing we can do for Luke right now other than let the medics do their jobs. Anakin’s going to need help, emotional if nothing else._

“He’s starting to wake up. I’ll let you all head back in a moment. He’s on extensive life-support in one of the long-term private recovery rooms. He is to get no information about his or Luke’s condition unless he asks for it, and even then all he needs to hear is that Luke is hurt but being cared for and that he himself is going to be in the medcenter for a while undergoing long-term therapy that will hopefully reduce the amount of life-support he is on. He is not to be told the details of Luke’s condition nor is he to be told the details of why he needs long-term therapy if that can be avoided for the time being.”

Everyone gave signs of agreement.

“Then let’s head back.”

She led them back through the depths of the medcenter, into the relatively quiet areas in the center where the various surgical recovery and long-term stay rooms were.

Mon Mothma was slightly surprised to discover she was apprehensive about finally seeing the ex-Sith. She had previously had dealings with him in the Senate, but only cursory. Pardoning him was one thing—there was more than enough proof that he had changed and everyone in the upper echelons of the Alliance seemed to see it, Bothan politicians aside. Besides, there was a war hero begging for him to have a second chance and listening to such a request was the least they could have done for someone who had already spent 3 years in a medcenter and was quite likely to be staying in one for many more years. Meeting Anakin, while in the company of his former associates—and potential continuing associates, depending on how things stood between he and the two ex-Imperials—and his daughter was something else. Even Han seemed to belong in the group more than she did.

 _I suppose I had better get used to it. People see me as the leader of the Rebellion so firmly that I barely belong anywhere not directly linked to politics. Even here, I feel more like I’m making the political statement of a leader checking in on her recently pardoned former enemy than the human statement of supporting my friend—if Leia considers me that and not simply her leader and mentor—and her family through a very rough time. I don’t belong here as a human. Only as a political figure._

It was a sobering and disturbing thought.

Then, they were at the door, the medic ushered them in, and all she could do was stand still, horrified at the condition of the wrecked human body lying in the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Piett could feel nothing but pity and compassion for the human wreck before him, even though he’d had some advance warning of Anakin’s usual physical state. After all, he had been called to Darth Vader’s chambers on more than one occasion, even seen the back of his head once...

The first thing one noticed upon entering the room was the sheer volume of cables, wires, and tubes going under the sheets and into or onto the body lying weakly in it. There were at least three stands for IV bags. Piett quickly noted that the medics seemed to have grouped the drugs on the stands by the immediacy of the ex-Sith’s need for them—he could see that such things as nutrient and saline drips were on the same stand. Counting out what seemed to be non-essential therapy drugs, Anakin seemed to be on at least 10 different drugs or substances. _And he would have been on most if not all of them before. How could he function as an officer, let alone fight, with that many needles sticking into him?_

After that, as one drew closer, one noted that the way the sheets draped over the form beneath them suggested emaciation rather than physical strength. Certainly Anakin’s legs and arms seemed muscular, as one would expect from a fighter, but his torso seemed painfully thin for one so tall. Piett almost thought he could count the ex-Dark Lord’s ribs through the sheets. _That explains the multiple nutrient drips. He can afford to lose some muscle mass, but he’s already in trouble fat percentage wise. He’ll need fat to burn at some point during therapy, and right now he hardly has any._

Finally, one could clearly see the face. Piett heard Mon Mothma fight back a sob and Veers gasp. _Understandable. They alone among us here haven’t seen any of his head yet._ There was the deep, striking scar across the top of his head, carving a canyon through his ash-white bald scalp. Next was the solid mass of scar tissue under his right eye. That was followed by the deep recesses that were his eye sockets, accentuated by the darker skin surrounding them.

Anakin was, completely and undeniably, an utter human wreck. And that was to count out any and all possible recent damage from the fight on the _Death Star_.

There were chairs scattered throughout the room. Each visitor grabbed one and moved close to the bunk. The medic checked a few readings on the life support equipment and excused herself from the room.

 _Now, we wait_.

...

Anakin could feel himself slowly start to become aware again...

And drop straight into one of the Force-visions that had plagued him most of his life.

He mentally let out a long stream of Huttese, Sith, and assorted other curses before settling down to see whatever he was supposed to see.

Voices he had never heard, faces he had only seen in the Jedi Archives if even then, all telling him one endless refrain:

“Chosen One, fulfill thy destiny.”

“No, it’s not me. It can’t be me, don’t you understand?” he cried into the Force. “I had a father, Mom just never told anyone he existed. Our y-chromosomes matched—I checked after he snuck into the Jedi Temple and told me! I’m not the Chosen One. Oh great Jedi of the Past, surely you know that!”

The voices and faces continued, hairstyles changing from Late Republic to Middle Republic. _They’re moving backwards in time._ “Restore the balance.”

“What balance? Dark and Light have been warring for as long as anyone can remember! Even in your days! There never was a balance!”

More voices and faces, gaining in variety of features and hairstyles. _Old Republic? The dawn of the Jedi?_ The voices started speaking in a whole range of languages, none that he could understand.

“What do you want?”

Three spirits stood before him, ancient ones.

One was dressed in fine violet fighting robes, belt shining with a brilliant purple jewel on the buckle and gold accents on everything. His stance was that of a warrior, his saber rough-hewn from the rock of the ground, his blade the shade of his robes.

Another was dressed in a mottled, worn old flight suit, pockets filled to bursting with bits of circuitry and wiring and belt hanging low, heavy with tools. His eyes had a wildness to them and his hair was tied back in a scruffy ponytail. His stance was that of a spacer, his saber made from a rough piece of coolant piping, his blade the color of a warm yellow sun.

The middle one was taller than either of her companions. She was dressed in the clothing of a peasant, rough-woven and hard wearing. There was hardness around her eyes, but a twinkle in them. Her hair was elaborately braided into a net that covered her shoulders and hung down to her waist. Her stance was that of an accomplished diplomat. Her saber was in the familiar Jedi style, the blade the green of new leaves.

As one, they said with thick accents: “Return the balance. Undo our mistakes.”

“How? I don’t even know who you are!”

They smiled. “You will understand, in time. Fix what has long been broken.”

They faded.

Another spirit, clad in loose Jedi-like robes, appeared. His hair was short and jet black, his eyes an orange-red that seemed out of place in his very human face. His fingers were long and delicate and his bearing was that of a displaced noble. “Rebuild the balance. And build a new balance, between new and old. Always remember, to the Force we are all one. No mortal being is in the end greater than any other.”

He faded as well. _He reminds me of someone... Hannar? The eyes are the same, or almost so._ "Wait!"

The man returned for a moment. "Yes?"

"Was my friend Hannar by any chance related to you?"

He nodded. "As is Saman. And a good portion of the human population of the galaxy, although less directly."

"'Is'? Saman lives?"

"I can say no more, except that you will find your answer within life rather than afterwards." He smiled. "You still have a destiny, Anakin Simeon Skywalker, whether you think the Force can still use you or not."

"Who are you, anyway?"

"An old legend of a people nearly forgotten. From long before the Republic was a gleam in someone's eye."

"And the others?"

"Great leaders and legends among the Force-users of the galaxy, from all eras of their existence. The Jedi were only founded when the Republic was founded. Before that... well, you'll find out."

"Planetary governments. No hyperdrives meant no long distance space travel."

The elder smiled. "As I said, you'll find out. The galaxy can lose a lot over a thousand generations. Even the Jedi Archives lost things over the vast spans of time. They moved, you know. Many times after many wars. The eldest texts were lost in Nomi Sunrider's day, when the Sith moved on the Archives."

"Then how am I supposed to find anything!?"

“You’ll find out. As I believe your daughter said some hours ago, ‘the world is a very strange place.’ Things are not always as they seem, nor should they be.”

Anakin felt himself slowly leave the vision and return to the waking world.


	7. Chapter 7

Leia gently placed a hand over the breathmask as Anakin started to stir slightly. It had become a symbol between them during the long hours in the shuttle, waiting for the medics to come. //Shh. You’re safe, Father. No rush for you to wake up.//

A sleepy Force-yawn of understanding. //Do I get to leave the med-center earlier if I wake up now instead of five minutes from now?//

//Not a chance. You do have visitors, though.//

//Can they wait? ‘m tired.//

//They’re waiting, and I think some of them are starting to worry.//

//Am I going to regret ‘waking up’? No shocking news?//

//Depends.//

//Oh dear.// He slowly opened his eyes. Leia drew her hand back.

“Good morning.” Leia didn’t think she’d ever heard Mon’s voice quite that shaky before.

“Hey, big guy.” Han semi-affectionately patted him on the shoulder.

“Morning, sir,” Veers and Piett said as one.

He smiled weakly. “You two come to the party alone, or did you bring the _Lady_ with you?”

“ _Lady_ and her crew,’’ Piett reassured him.

“Was the escort angry?”

“Few dozen dead, medcenter half full of the injured. And the _Lady_ is limping.”

Anakin winced.

“Huh?” Han said.

“The _Executor_ is commonly referred to by her devoted crew as the _Lady Ex_ , or, among her upper crew, as the _Lady_ ,” Anakin explained. “Her escort is the Imperial Intelligence men on board. I think for a while we had the Intelligence guys convinced there had been an outbreak of a fertility goddess cult on board the ship, what with the odes some of the crew were writing in honor of ‘the Lady of the Endless Skies’.”

“Don’t forget the drunken ballads,” Piett added.

“Or the abnormal cadences the stormtroopers whispered on patrol.” Veers rolled his eyes. “I almost felt sorry for the officers on comm. duty when that started.”

“How bad, or dare I ask?” Han laughed.

"You really don't want to know," the three ex-Imperials said as one. They looked at each other in surprise and laughed.

Leia suddenly realized that the upper command crew of the _Executor_ had not merely been colleagues.

They had been friends.

...

Anakin joked around with Veers and Piett for a few more minutes, trying to ignore the aches in his broken body and the questions in his mind.

He finally couldn’t stand not knowing any longer. “How’s Luke doing?”

“They think he’ll be fine, with time and care,” Leia told him gently.

“How bad?”

“He’ll be in the medcenter for a while. The medics don’t want you to know the details just yet.” Mon patted his newly-replaced left hand through the sheets. “And, quite frankly, until either you or Luke is fit to wander around the medcenter, I don’t see a reason you need to know anything more than that Luke is going to be fine eventually, is getting the best care we can give him, and is expected to make a full recovery.”

“Leia? How are you handling all this stuff?”

“Fairly well,” she replied, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Haven’t had much time to think about anything, though. I spent most of the past day asleep.”

He tried to reach a hand up to where hers was, but failed. _I’m so weak right now... Why am I so weak..._

She smoothed back part of the edge of the sheet until she could hold his hand. //This what you wanted, Father?//

He gave her the Force-equivalent of a nod. //Thanks. Just let me know you’re near.// “And my situation here is...?”

“That you won’t be leaving for a long time either,” Piett answered. “And you aren’t supposed to get details until you’re stronger.”

Anakin let out a long sigh, then paused. _I shouldn’t be able to do that._ “This is only an oxygen mask?”

Veers nodded.

“But how...?”

“No details until you’re stronger,” Mon told him softly, voice losing the shaky edge it had acquired earlier. “For now, you just need to know that you’re going to be here for a while, for both treatment and therapy afterwards.”

 _Then why would the spirits of the past contact me now? It’s not like I can do anything right now._

He yawned, suddenly exhausted. _How long since I was out of the suit for this amount of time?_

Leia squeezed his hand. “Shh. You’re still injured.”

Mon tentatively patted his shoulder. “Sleep if you need to. No one expects you to do anything for a while except heal.”

Anakin summoned his courage and looked her in the eye weakly. “Why... pardon... me?”

“People spoke in your favor. You should note that it only covers anything you did before you turned back. It’s a second chance, nothing more and nothing less. A few people were quite vehement about it. Most interest in current events on a small scale that Biggs has shown in a long time, actually.”

“Who?”

“Biggs Darklighter. One of Luke’s friends from Tatooine, his best friend in fact. Nearly died trying to destroy the first _Death Star_. Got hit, banged into the trench, spun out. He somehow managed to get far enough out to survive the blast when it blew.”

 _I remember that X-Wing. Oh Force, I nearly killed my son’s best friend..._ His breathing suddenly came in sobbing gasps for a moment.

When he had calmed again, Mon Mothma continued. “He’s been in the medcenter ever since. He needs extreme vertebrae reconstruction and no one in the Alliance can do the procedure. His case is complicated and no one who’s defected so far has the skill and experience necessary to keep from hurting him even more. Everyone’s been trying to keep his hopes up, but as time goes on he keeps sinking into himself.”

“Can you tell him that while I don’t deserve his support, I thank him for it, and that I am deeply sorry about what happened?”

She nodded. “I think he’d like to hear that. Won’t change his condition, but I think he’s figured out who was piloting the TIE that shot him.”

Anakin winced.

“He knew before he supported you, Anakin. And he was very vehement about the whole thing.”

Anakin felt himself drifting towards sleep again.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but was asleep before a single additional word crossed his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

Duria Rhsycandor paced through the corridor outside the medcenter aboard _Home One_ , mouse-brown braid trailing behind her.

_How could Biggs do this? After all Vader did to him... to everyone... to us? How can he stand to do that? To speak for that monster?_

The doors opened and a medic let her in.

She charged past and into the depths of the medcenter, goal firmly in her mind.

She slapped the door control and stormed in.

“BIGGS DARKLIGHTER, HOW COULD YOU!?!?!?”

She could hear the medcenter go quiet.

His eyes flickered open, two diamonds shining in the dim light of the room. “Because I had to, Duria.”

“Why?” Tears ran down her face.

“You wouldn’t be able to understand.”

She wandered in, letting the door close behind her. “What can’t I understand? Biggs, he nearly killed you! You’re paralyzed, and while the medics keep saying it can be treated once someone with enough skill shows up, it’s been 3 years. 3 years,” she sobbed, burying a hand in his hair just above the neck brace that kept what little hope there was of treatment intact.

He sighed and was silent for a moment. “Have you heard the rumors yet, Duria?”

“That it was the Empire that did that to him? Yeah. Haven’t heard them confirmed yet.”

“The healers told me once they found out. I had guessed as much.”

“How... could you have guessed?” She could hear the anger leaving her voice. _I never could stay mad at him for long, not even before everything happened._

“When I was at the Academy, I saw the way things were. The more indispensable one was to the war effort, the faster one got booted out of the medcenter. Our instructors limped to their ships more often than I’d like to remember. When I heard he was still alive with broken life-support, I had no doubt the same rules had applied to him.”

“And that was enough reason for you to beg for his pardon?”

“No, but it sealed it. You never heard Luke talk when he was young. You never saw what life was like in Anchorhead. If they had done anything to Anakin... it would have killed Luke. His entire life he’s wanted to know anything he could about his father... You saw how he was after Bespin. He functioned somehow, but he was more withdrawn than I get. The only thing that pulled him out of it, I’d bet, is the hope that somehow he could get Vader to turn back. This way... if Luke was right, the Alliance gets an ally and Luke gets a father.”

“And if he’s wrong...?” She moved closer, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

“Then the Alliance deals with him for the new crimes and everyone tries to keep Luke sane after the loss. Anakin’s fate’s in his own hands, now. His decisions are his own. What remains of his life is his to do with as he pleases.”

...

One week later, Mon Mothma stood on the bridge of _Home One_ , receiving the latest repair reports for the fleet.

“Admiral Ackbar?” a young tech interrupted.

“What is it, which is so important you would disturb us?” His voice was gruff, but there was a shine of deep humor in his eyes. Mon knew well that the young communications officer was one of the bridge crew Ackbar was keeping well under his wing for one reason or another. The young woman had an excellent command of many common languages, human and non-human, and besides that, Ackbar seemed to genuinely like the girl. _Miram Nakcria. She would make a good diplomat, if we didn’t need her skills here._

“Someone is hailing anyone in command here. The language they’re using sounds like an old Coruscant dialect of a spacers cant. How should I respond?”

“Ask who is seeking to contact the Alliance.” Mon moved over close to the young officer.

She chattered something into the microphone. “Says he is Alend Clovindi, leader of the local region’s SkyLord population.”

“’SkyLord’? A new species?”

“He sounds human, ma’am.”

“And he is hailing us why?”

More banter. “There apparently was an attempted attack on a nearby planet by some species... I can’t translate the name... ShriRuk, I think. Pretty nasty stuff, ma’am, judging from the tone of his voice. He says his people routed the attack. He wanted us to know, in case they try anything again.”

Ackbar gasped. “He gives information freely?”

Another small exchange. “He says if we wish his ship and the data they have on these ShriRuk can be here in two weeks... He asks only for parts to help repair the hyperdrive on his ship... Apparently it sustained minor damage during the fight.”

“Ask him if anyone on his ship knows Basic,” Mon prompted.

A bit of chatter. “His granddaughter seems to, if I understand correctly.”

“Let him know we’ll need her to translate for him when he arrives.”

She said something in a slow, steady voice, then listened for a moment. “He says she will be glad to. Apparently she’s grown up hearing about the people of the living planets, even eavesdropped on hypercomm communications to learn the language. He says she’s managed to become quite fluent and didn’t have any trouble talking to anyone they met on the world that was attacked.”

“Thank the Force for children’s programming,” Ackbar whispered under his breath. Mon tried to resist a giggle.

“He also says that his people are wondering if we have a mindHealer.”

“Why do they need a mindHealer?”

She asked. “They captured a human that the ShriRuk had apparently brainwashed. He’s a mental wreck apparently. They want to see if anyone can help him.”

“Tell him we’ll do what we can.”

She repeated the assurance. “He sends his thanks and says he will be here in 14 days. And then he broke the connection.”

Mon turned to Ackbar. “Excuse me, but I must go see if our resident ex-Sith knows anything about these SkyLords. Maybe the Jedi had a legend about them or perhaps he heard rumors elsewhere.”

He nodded a respectful assent and she left.


	9. Chapter 9

Anakin relaxed into the wheelchair-bed the medics had jury-rigged for him. They had only just presented it to him that morning, telling him, “You may not be strong enough to be up and about, but you can certainly be about.” There was no way for him to move it himself, but they had promised to let him get outside his room in it at least once every day, even if only to circle the medcenter corridors. _Finally, a form of mobile life-support._

It wasn’t the greatest thing in the universe, but he was propped up somewhat so that he was nearly sitting. For someone who had spent over 20 years of his life sleeping sitting upright in a sterile meditation chamber, the past week of lying flat constantly had been extremely unnerving, even ignoring the effects of his injuries. The soft padding of the wheelchair-bed had come as a relief. He was still weak, but he felt more in control of himself.

He smiled weakly at the medics. “Thank you.” He silently berated himself for not knowing their names by now, but lucidity was still very much a fluid thing for him. _I’ll learn their names eventually,_ he promised himself. “Now, didn’t you all say Biggs wanted to talk with me?”

“If you wanted to talk with him. He wanted us to be sure to let you know he wouldn’t hold it against you if you didn’t come...”

“It’ll get me out of the room. And I do need to talk to him.”

There was only a small length of corridor between the two rooms.

One of the medics stuck his head in an open door. “Someone to see you, Biggs.”

“He can come in,” a weak voice answered. Anakin recognized the quality of the weakness—it was the voice of one who had lain still far too long.

The medics pushed him in and left, closing the door partway.

“So you’re Luke’s father,” Biggs whispered after a moment. Anakin could see the shine in his eyes and knew the quality of Bigg’s mind hadn’t suffered from his long medical problems. Emotional problems yes... but not cognitive problems.

“Yeah. Thanks for speaking for me, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it. Have they told you anything about how Luke’s doing?”

“Not yet. They say he’s in good hands and I shouldn’t worry.”

Biggs snorted softly. “They’ve been telling me the same thing.”

“Something’s got to be wrong, then.”

“Can’t you feel him? You are both Jedi, right?”

“It’s been so long since I used the lightside extensively, and I’m so physically weak... I can’t use the Force for very much right now. As far as I can tell he’s still unconscious.”

Biggs seemed to relax—Anakin thought he saw some change in the skin folds around his eyes. “If he’s unconscious, then he can’t feel whatever pain he might be in. It’s been over a week.”

A long quiet pause, not really uncomfortable at all. _We’re both used to the silence,_ Anakin realized.

“Does it still hurt?” _I can’t believe I just asked him that..._

“What?” Biggs asked weakly.

“Your injury. Does it still hurt?”

“A little. Sometimes.”

“I hope someone who can help defects soon.” Something suddenly lodged in his mind. “Has anyone checked to see if someone on the _Executor_ could help?”

“I don’t know.”

One of the medics came in. “A holomessage just arrived from your father, Biggs. Do you want to see it now, or later?”

“How did he sign it?” Anakin could hear trepidation in his voice.

“Huff Darklighter, followed by all his titles.”

Biggs let out a sob. “There goes my inheritance. He only signs holomessages like that when he’s sending them to business rivals. Just go ahead and play it.”

Surely enough, the message was clear. Biggs had been completely disowned.

 _Because of me._

Anakin spent the rest of the day there, trying to keep Biggs’ spirits up. Eventually, Biggs dropped into a deep but uneasy sleep.

Anakin relaxed. _He’s asleep. Finally._ He closed his eyes from exhaustion and felt himself slip into unconsciousness.

...

He was on a ship.

 _I know this place._

Mamre was there, Shmi of the laughing eyes and warm smile, the woman who had raised him.

Famre was there, a dim sense of warmth and comfort.

The stars were everywhere, big and bright through the large window of the family observation lounge. He felt himself waddle over to the window, pressing his hands and face against the cool transparisteel plating.

He was small, so very small.

Famre behind him, picking him up and holding him close.

He fell out of the dream and into a vision. _Not again._

A man, dressed in late-middle Republic Jedi robes, face scarred and marked by a thousand worry wrinkles. _He had life tough,_ Anakin realized.

“Chosen One, defend yourself.”

“What? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“CHOSEN ONE, DEFEND YOURSELF!”

He snapped back into the physical world instantaneously...

... to find a blaster aimed into the room. He couldn’t tell if it was aimed at him or Biggs—either way, he had to do something.

In desperation, Anakin reached as deep as he could into the Force and pushed...  



	10. Chapter 10

Han and Chewie walked into the medcenter, looking for Anakin. One of the medics had commed Leia to tell her Anakin had spent a stressful day with Biggs, although the medic hadn’t said anything about why the day was stressful. Leia had sent them to see if Anakin was doing ok, as a friendly visit.

They were about to turn into the hall that housed both Anakin and Biggs’ rooms when the distinctive sound of a low-power though still potentially deadly blastershot rent the air.

They ran around the corner, Han barely registering the slight flash of light that meant Chewie had unsheathed his climbing claws.

A man in Biggs’ doorway, holding a blaster and falling backwards.

The blaster tumbled in air back into the room.

Seconds later, a stunblast crossed the hall. The man jerked once and was still except for the slightest rise and fall in his chest.

The sound of labored breathing from inside the room brought both Chewie and Han to their senses. Han grabbed his commlink and punched Leia’s number.

She answered quickly. “Leia here.”

“Leia, it’s Han. Bit of trouble here. Get security to come to Biggs’ room in the medcenter and tell the medics they need to get there too. Unknown gunner down by a stunshot, haven’t ventured in the room yet.”

“I’ll handle that and be down there soon.” There was no mistaking the sudden fear in her voice. Her end of the link disconnected.

“Keep an eye on him, Chewie,” Han told his co-pilot. “The last thing we need is him waking up unrestrained.”

The Wookiee whuffled assent.

Han swallowed hard once, then entered the room.

Biggs was okay, shaken if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, but unharmed.

Anakin was another story entirely.

There was a large blaster burn in the wall immediately over where his head had likely been, if the position of the tipped wheelchair-bed was anything to go by.

 _It’s going to take the medics to get him back in that thing safely._ The IV’s and other tubes and such all still appeared to be relatively intact.

Anakin himself, however, was another matter entirely.

He was sprawled partly on the ground and partly on pillows and padding which had fallen off the wheelchair-bed, blaster next to one of his hands. The oxygen mask had slipped away from his nose and mouth; Anakin was breathing, but struggling.

He was also shivering violently. Most of the blankets he had been under were now under him. _He can’t regulate his own temperature correctly yet,_ Han realized. _The suit did that for him, and he doesn’t have the energy reserves to handle it himself yet. The medcenter shirt and the drawstring pants he’s wearing aren’t insulating enough._

He tried to put whatever of the blankets and such he could over Anakin as well as he could. The ex-Sith continued shivering, but it wasn’t as forceful.

Anakin opened his eyes slightly, breath still wheezing. “Shh, big guy. You fell over. Just give me another minute and you’ll be as fixed up as you can be without the help of the medics.” Anakin closed his eyes, clearly trusting the ex-smuggler.

It was then that Han realized the breathmask had been damaged in the fall. He tried to hold in a long stream of invective, then tried to see what could be salvaged.

The mouth-part was completely mangled, hanging on by threads of material to the rest of the mask, but the nose-part was fairly intact. Han ripped the mouth-part off, tore a strip off one of the blankets and used it to block whatever openings remained that would have gone to the mouth portion, and then pressed the nose-part over Anakin’s nose, helping the middle-aged Jedi hold it in place.

...

Luke felt himself slowly gain a dim awareness of the world. _Where... am... I...?_

//Resting between week-long bacta dunks. They eased off the sedatives so they can be sure nothing that happened to you or that they’re doing now is causing mind damage. I wouldn’t advise trying to wake up further right now. You’re still very weak and injured. You’ve only been in the medcenter for just over a week.//

 _Who?_

Luke felt himself drawn into a gentle Force-embrace. //An old friend of your father. Don’t try to figure out who I am; I died years before you were born. You’ve probably never even heard of me.//

 _How... is... he...?_

//Luke, you need to worry about yourself now.//

Sudden fear seized Luke. _Father..._

The Force-embrace tightened slightly. //Shh. He’s going to be fine. You’re in worse shape than he is. The medics are taking good care of both of you. Just rest, little Jedi.//

Luke was suddenly aware of the weak Force-presence of a medic next to him. “Luke? Can you hear me?”

He mumbled something he intended to be assent, then grimaced. _No one should ever wake up to their own bacta breath._ He opened his eyes slightly and immediately recognized where he was.

Every medcenter in the fleet had a few such rooms for the extremely injured. The room consisted of the medical bed, a bacta tank, and nearly every piece of modern diagnosis, condition analysis, and life-support technology. The pilots always called them the “crash rooms” because about the only thing that could place someone in the serious shape the rooms were meant to deal with was a starfighter crash. There was a small window looking in from an observation area; that was the only part of the wall that wasn’t taken up by devices or the door itself.

“Luke? Do you know where you are?”

“Medcenter,” he responded weakly, closing his eyes again. “One of the crash rooms.”

“Do you remember why?”

“Battle, we won, I was hurt and Father’s life-support was damaged.”

“Well, if nothing else, your memory is undamaged.” He moved towards something behind Luke. “I need to start the sedatives again. Before I do, do you have any questions?”

“How’s Father doing?”

“He’ll live, but he’s going to be in the medcenter awhile. We’re trying to find out what the least amount of life-support is that he actually needs to survive. I’m not supposed to tell you any more than that.”

“I understand.” Luke closed his eyes and felt the still-existent Force-embrace strengthen as he started to fade back into unconsciousness. _Who are you, anyway?_

//As I said, I am one of your father’s friends from long ago, before the Purge began.//

And then there was only the painlessness of utter unconsciousness.


	11. Chapter 11

Anakin lay on the deck, still slightly dazed from the attack and its aftermath. _I didn't think stunweapons had that much kick to them. Am I really that weak?_

He shivered, trying to curl up to keep warm.

"Shh, big guy. Try not to move too much; the fall could have broken something,"

"Cold..."

"I've done what I can about that. The medics should be here soon."

The distinct sounds of a security group outside. There was a sort of muffled rustling- _fur?_ -nearby. Anakin turned towards the sound and barely opened his eyes.

A brown-furred Wookiee head peeked around the doorway. [Is he okay, Han?]

"I think so."

"Nothing... hurts... that... didn't... hurt... earlier," Anakin murmured, still catching his breath.

[You know Shyriiwook?]

Anakin waited a moment before he answered. "And Huttese... and Street Basic... and Rodian... smattering of others. Normal Basic and Huttese are the languages I speak fluently that are anywhere near common."

A group of medics came in, righted the wheelchair-bed, and started trying to lift Anakin back into it.

They finally had him settled in 5 minutes later. He said goodbye to Biggs, both promising that they would try to spend the day together again later, hopefully under better circumstances.

Another 3 minutes, and they were moving him back into the bed in his room. One of the medics suddenly snorted with something that sounded like surprise. "Well, it seems you're doing better than we thought you were, Anakin."

"What do you mean?" Han asked.

"This." The medic held up the mangled and ripped other end of the tube that went from the breathmask to the oxygen compressor.

Everyone's jaws dropped.

...

An aide ran into the room where Leia and Mon Mothma were tying up a discussion about the best way to handle the coming diplomatic situation with the SkyLords so that Leia could head down to the medcenter without feeling rushed in returning.

"Sorry to interrupt, but the medics need you down in the medcenter. Now."

Leia hopped up immediately, hand rising to cover her open mouth.

"What happened?" Mon asked, standing and placing a hand on the younger politician's shoulder. _That family has been through enough._

"Something happened during the attack. The medics can't keep Anakin's real condition secret from him any longer. Or why he's in the condition he's in."

The two women looked at each other and rushed out, the aide following them.

...

Within a half an hour, Anakin's room was full of people.

Even after the recent discovery by the medcenter staff, Anakin was in an oxygen mask due to the emotional fit he'd had that led to wheezing sobbing. He could breathe mostly on his own, though not for long at once, and no one wanted to further risk his heath by putting that stress on him for long until they were sure he could handle it.

Leia was sitting beside Anakin, letting him lean into her, resting his cheek on her shoulder. “Shh, it’s going to be okay, Father. Shh,” she whispered, stroking his slightly fuzzy scalp and dabbing at his still falling tears with a scrap of toweling.

Han settled down on Anakin’s other side, one hand resting on the ex-Sith’s shoulder.

The others were scattered throughout the room, ready to offer comfort whenever the medics came back with all the information they had on Anakin’s physical condition. Chewie and Lando were next to Han while Mon was beside Leia. Piett and Veers were back on the _Executor_ , dealing with the slow influx of Imperial defectors that had been occurring over the past few days and completely unreachable.

There was something deeply wrong about the scene. Leia didn’t know precisely what, but it was like a memory twisted and mangled past all recognition.

A flash of memory... dark cloak wrapped around her, face pressed close to rough armor so that heavy breathing reverberated in her bones. Damp, like that of Coruscant’s lower levels, where the sun never quite manages to warm anything.

And then the memory was gone.

She thought for a moment over the events of her childhood and the impossibility of the situation she now found herself in, giving a little giggle in the Force at the insanity of it all.

//What is it, Leia?// Anakin asked, no small amount of concern shading his words.

//How in the world did a little 10-year-old on the edges of a diplomatic banquet ever think approaching a large darkly dressed stranger with breathing problems in a corner was a smart idea?//

He added his own weak and uneasy laugh. //I do not know, but I am glad you did.//

 _Good. I’ve got his mind off himself for the moment._ She rubbed his head again. //I always wondered what you really looked like.//

They both sat there for a moment, linked in the Force, reminiscing about all the times in the following few years they had both shared various corners, alcoves, and balconies at diplomatic functions, avoiding the endless meaningless posturing of others, simply talking.

Their thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of two medics, one armed with a thick pile of flimsiplast printouts, the other attempting to hide the fact that she was carrying a small bag of various hypos. _Evening’s drugs. Either that, or they want sedatives on hand in case he really takes this badly, for his own safety._

She felt Anakin turn his head slightly toward the medics. //I love you, Father,// she sent.

The medic with the printouts stepped forward.

“Anakin Skywalker, we of the medical staff regret to inform you that you could have been living off of life support for the last at least 15 years.”

...

For a moment, Anakin completely surrendered himself to tears, losing all sense of reality.

He opened his eyes again just as the other medic started moving forward with the drugs. He stared her straight in the eye. “Don’t. Drug. Me.” She looked at him funny, continuing forward. _Language lapse,_ he realized. He repeated himself, enunciating every Basic syllable. She backed off.

He realized vaguely a moment later that Mon Mothma was staring at him, mouth hanging slightly open. “Basic was my third language,” he explained sheepishly through more tears. “I lapse out of it easily under stress. I was young when I learned it, but Huttese and my birth language still feel more natural to me.”

 _Why am I so calm?_ he wondered.

//Because it hasn’t had time to sink in yet,// a warm voice at the back of his mind, unrecognizable and yet totally familiar, whispered. //It is mind-real, but not yet soul-real.// A flash of memory: warmth and a kindness he hadn’t felt in a long time. Laughing eyes in a roughened face.

 _Famre?_

There was no answer.

Another few moments of crying. He finally gave a few sniffles, using the Force to momentarily repress the physical aspects of his reaction. _I need information, and as long as I’m creating a miniature flood, I can’t get that information._ “Why, and how does my situation now look?”

“Apparently you were put into the suit before you were done healing naturally. As time passed, you adapted to the suit. Things the suit did for you, your body stopped trying to do for itself. Right now, if nothing else, you are capable of breathing on your own for short periods of time. Given your physical condition, I don’t doubt that once you get your strength back that you will be able to breathe without any assistance for long periods of time, if you need assistance at all. Everything else is a bit more shady.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that right now we don’t have any real way to make meaningful projections about whether or not several of your organ systems can function without help because we haven’t seen what they are still capable of. For instance, when was the last time you ate anything?”

“Morning before I ended up like this.”

“Which means your digestive tract hasn’t had to deal with food in well over 15 years. There’s no current medical precedent for whether or not it can again after not doing so for that long. And since until today you seemed to need a full breathmask that covered your mouth completely, we had no way of checking to see what the real situation is. Could be that the system kicks back into gear within a few hours of you eating something, could be that it never kicks back in. Just have to take things as they come.”

“I understand,” Anakin whispered before nestling closer in Leia’s embrace and surrendering completely to his tears.

//Shh. We’re all right here, Father.//

//Just don’t leave me alone.//

//We won’t. I promise.//


	12. Chapter 12

Anakin woke the next morning to salted-shut eyelids from crying himself to sleep. He groaned slightly, fumbling to clean them.

“Shh, Father. Just be still.” Leia gently dabbed at his face with a wet cloth. “Relax. You had quite a shock yesterday.”

Anakin opened his eyes, squinting at the light in the room. He saw and heard Leia fumble for something and the lights dimmed. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Sorry to be such a bother...”

She held his hand firmly. “Father, there is nothing for you to apologize for... nothing medical, at least. And the non-medical things... you were lied to and manipulated. I doubt very many people would blame you and you alone for anything that happened. The Emperor taught you to blame the world for what was his doing...” She was rambling and Anakin knew it.

He weakly squeezed her hand, then let it go. “But I was already falling to the Dark Side when I fell into the lava.”

The memories washed over him like a tide unturnable. He felt tears run down his face.

Leia wiped at his face again. “Shh. You’re safe now. And without Palpatine’s lies, I doubt you would have fallen so far or stayed there for long.”

//If Palapatine had never touched the galaxy, the Trade Federation would never have acted on Naboo. Padme would have been a great senator, maybe even be Chancellor by now. Obi-Wan would have ended up on the Council, eventually. Qui-Gon would have lived to see old age. Hannar would still be alive. I would still be on Tatooine, if not as a slave then as a poor moisture farmer. I would have been there to help Mamre, though I wouldn’t have had the knowledge how...

//I would have died with her. I owe my current existence to the machinations of the Sith.// The knowledge settled coldly in his mind.

Leia’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “The medics want you to try something.”

“What?”

“They need you to see if you can manage drinking some water, just to see if it might jump-start something... besides the fact you dehydrated yourself slightly by crying yesterday and there’s only so much stuff they dare stick in your bloodstream at once.”

“All right.” He moved to sit, not accepting her offers of help. “If I can still use my own muscles to do something, I need to.” It took a few moments and some artful piling of pillows behind him by Leia, but he was finally somewhat upright.

She walked away for a moment and came back with a drinking bulb. "I'm going to have to help unless you really want to wear this, and considering how much trouble you already have with being too cold..."

"That's fine, Leia..." he mumbled, smiling weakly at her. "My hands were shaking so much yesterday when everything happened that I'm surprised I managed to hit anything, actually."

...

 _Drinking after nearly 20 years without doing so must be a unique experience,_ Leia thought. Other than a few instances over the past few days, she knew of no times anything other than an oxygen mask or the... horrid thing... had touched his face. He only let it show occasionally with little involuntary flinches as if he didn't quite remember what to expect from the touch, but overall he seemed to rather enjoy such contact.

This, however, was a more trying situation. _We should have expected this._

While Anakin did seem to be able to handle general physical contact, mouth contact with anything was another story.

 _We should have foreseen this when he struggled on the shuttle. His mind forged an association between the mask and any sort of anything touching his lips or even getting close to doing so._

After half an hour of trying, she hadn't managed to get the bulb any closer to his face than a few inches. It seemed the second he stopped being able to see where it was precisely, he started reacting involuntarily. Most of the time it was a simple fear reaction that ended in him trying to duck his head away, although a few times he had unconsciously tried to use the Force to take the thing out of her hand.

"Can't you just stay still?" she finally griped, hair disheveled from all the attempts to keep him from squirming away somehow.

"I can't help it! I'm trying, believe me, I'm trying."

They sat for a moment, both thinking. After a moment, Anakin leaned back a bit, letting his head rest against the wall. In another moment, his eyes were drifting shut again.

 _If we can't do this the easy way, we'll have to do it the hard way._

Before he could possibly react in his condition, she had gotten a firm grip both physically and in the Force on the drink bulb, was gently but firmly pinning his head to the pillows with one hand, and had poured fully a fifth of the contents in the general direction of his mouth. While he was still busy reacting to the stream of water running down his neck from where she'd missed for a moment, she held the drink bulb to his mouth, making him adjust to the contact. "Shh. It's okay, Father."

After a few tense moments, he finally relaxed. _Good. Maybe we won't have to go through this again later._

He carefully and shakily reached up to place his hand on hers on the bulb and tipped it back slowly, eyes closed.

Leia would have laughed if not for the utter heartbreaking nature of the scene before her.

When she had been just barely 9 years old, one of her distant male cousins had turned 21. As was customary at such celebrations in the Organa family, there had been a public party, a more sedate family party with speeches on the responsibilities of adulthood in the galaxy's nobility, and then the adult men of the family had wandered off.

Leia, being the curious I-wanna-know-now bossy princess she had been at that young age had followed them, even into the deeper parts of Aldera Palace that she wasn't supposed to ever go. Finally, they entered an old wine cellar deep under the main Palace.

The little princess hid behind some of the larger casks near the entrance.

Bail had rummaged deep into the room, through at least two different locked containers, and had pulled out something that looked to be a firkin encased in some sort of durasteel, though the sheen was wrong in the low light. The way he carried it made it seem lighter than it looked.

"There was once a flower, the _Ambrosiana dulcedina_ , that lived on our plains and bloomed in the springtime," Bail explained to the young man. "It's nectar was said to be the most pleasant thing to ever grace the human palate.

"But people heard of it far and wide once the hyperspace routes opened up. They came and plucked the blossoms recklessly to harvest the sweet nectar. Soon the flower was rare, found only in the farthest reaches of the plains and in the most elite and guarded flowerbeds. Within a century, the flower was found only in the royal garden. The queen at the time, Lady Leilani, sent half of the seeds one year from the plot in her garden, enough to cover an acre of land full of the blossoms, to a friend far away so as to try to raise the population, for her plot was as large as she dared let it be.

"No one knows what happened to those seeds.

"She collected just enough nectar that year to fill this container to the brim and hid it, letting no one but her husband know about it.

"That winter, Aldera froze for the first time in a thousand years. All the seeds she herself had kept died. Not a one ever showed a leaf above the ground. The price of the nectar, already elevated, rose higher as the last remaining carafes slowly were consumed.

"Several years after the last drop in the last carafe disappeared from sight, Lady Leilani died. Her will told of this place and instructed that upon reaching his 21st year each man in the proper, noble Organa male bloodline was to taste one drop of the remaining nectar, to know intimately what his people had lost due to their own greed and short-sightedness in not protecting the plant while it was still wild."

She could still see the look on her cousin's face as he experienced that one taste.

It was the same look she saw on her father's face now.

"Good water?" she asked once the last drop was gone and he had let his hand drop back down to the sheets.

He nodded, eyes still closed. "Good water."

Lando stuck his head in the door. "Leia, weren't you meeting Han for lunch? You were supposed to call me over half an hour ago so I could take over watch and let you leave."

She gasped. "I almost completely forgot. Father, you mind if I leave for a while and Lando stays here with you?

"Leia, you have a life. Go on. Have lunch with the smuggler." After a moment of silence in the room, he slightly opened his eyes. "Leia, it's fine. Go on and leave."

She left.  



	13. Chapter 13

Anakin watched as Lando walked over and sat in the seat Leia had recently vacated. "Calrissian, I'm sorry about what happened..."

"Would I have been here yesterday if I wasn't trying to forgive you?"

 _He was here? Everything about yesterday is a blur now..._ "I suppose not," Anakin smiled weakly, moving to lie down again. Lando helped him a bit... not much, but then again Anakin never thought of the former Baron as a meddler in the way most of the other members of the Alliance he'd met so far were. _I need so much help, but yet only so much help. I can't become dependent on their aid or I'll be nearly as bad off as I was before. I could be medically independent and yet completely dependent on others..._

"How are you feeling? The past week must've been tough."

"Things still are," Anakin admitted. "Psychological leftovers from the past two decades, trying to regain whatever physical independence I can... not getting news about much of what's going on in the wider world. I know they have reasons, like not wanting me to worry, but they won't even give me a general idea of Luke's condition other than that he's breathing."

"He's going to be fine, Anakin. But it's going to take time. Apparently they let him wake up for a little while yesterday and he seemed to be mentally intact. Physically is another story, but they think he'll make a 100 percent recovery with therapy."

Anakin closed his eyes. _He'll be okay. He wasn't damaged beyond repair. He can still have a normal life._

"Granted, it was only for a few minutes while resting between bacta dunks, but he apparently did know what was going on around him and also remembered what had happened. Word has it he even asked how you were doing."

"He shouldn't worry about me..." Anakin turned his head away in shame.

"Anakin, Luke always worries about other people more than himself, particularly people he's close to. Get used to it; it's part of who your son is."

More silence. _Even someone who until bare months ago was a stranger to him knows my son better than I do._

A warm hand on his shoulder. “Eventually you’re going to have to stop beating yourself up for everything you did, you know.”

A pause. “Just let me be quiet for a while, please, Lando.”

“Sure thing, Anakin.”

...

It was a few hours later when Mon Mothma poked her head in the door of the small room in the medcenter. She had delayed longer than she would have wished, but the attack and resulting sequence of events had put so much stress on Anakin... she dared not put any more on him by finding out if he knew anything about these strange wanders, these SkyLords.

“Good afternoon, Lady Mothma. Are you taking over Han’s shift?” Lando asked politely.

“No, but I need to ask Anakin some questions. Anakin?”

“Hmm?” he mumbled, clearly having been half-way between sleeping and being awake.

“Do you feel well enough to talk for a little while?”

“Yeah.” A yawn. Anakin stretched a little in the bed.

“Lando, do you mind stepping out for a few moments?”

“Han’s actually supposed to head down here in about half-an-hour. If you don’t mind staying here until he arrives...”

“That’s fine with me if it’s fine with Anakin.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Goodbye, Anakin. I’ll probably be here again later on this week.” Lando left.

Mon entered and sat down in the vacated chair. “You doing all right today, Anakin? You had quite a shock yesterday.”

“I am fine, Lady. Thank you for your concern.” Anakin rolled his head over to look towards her. “What was it you wanted to ask me?”

“The Alliance was contacted yesterday by a group of starwanderers who apparently call themselves the SkyLords; that’s the best translation we could get. One of their leaders arrives in 13 days’ time to provide us with information about a dangerous group, the ShriRuk or somesuch, that was poking around this area of space. I was wondering if you might know some thing about these SkyLords. Anakin, what is it?”

He had somehow, even in his weakened state, rolled onto his side partway as far as the cushions on the edges of the bed would let him. Mon couldn’t see his face, but his whole body was shaking.

There was no response.

“Anakin?” She reached over and put a hand on one quaking shoulder.

“Did this leader give his name?” His voice was shaky.

“Alend Clovindi.”

If anything, Anakin’s reaction increased in intensity.

“Anakin, want is it? Do I need to get the medics?”

“No.” His voice was full of ragged emotion. “13 days, you said.”

“Anakin, what do you know?”

“The SkyLords are a branch of humans that broke off from the Jedi ages ago because they loved the stars more than they loved the ground. They’re pretty much interstellar wanderers, but they do have territories split by generalized family groups. The borders change some from generation to generation, but there are set rendezvous points on mostly barren planets and such. More I do not know. It’s been so long...”

“What’s been so long?”

“I was adopted – I don’t know where or to what people I was originally born – by Shmi Clovindi CiencloSwai and her husband. Mamre – that means ‘mother’ in SkyLord – were captured by slavers when I was 3. She translated our last name to Skywalker then. Famre – ‘father’ – was killed in the attack; I can’t remember what his name was. Alend is my uncle; I can barely remember him. I don’t know anything about his current family.” He started to calm a bit.

“He said his granddaughter was going to try to translate. Apparently she’s been learning Basic off of the Holonet.”

“If the medics will let me out of here for bits of time by then, I’ll help. I’m a native speaker of SkyLord and might as well be a native speaker of Basic.” He started uncurling and lay back down again.

“Are you okay?”

“I’ve just had one too many shocks in the past few days. I will be fine.”

They were both quiet for a few moments. Mon noted that while most of the shaking had stopped, Anakin was still trembling. _For him, a physical emotional reaction like that just doesn’t seem right. Crying quietly is one thing, but if he’d had a reaction like that anytime while he was Vader... There must be something else going on._

After a moment he let out a gasp and grimaced in obvious pain. “Lady,” he choked out, “I think you’d better get the medics.”  



	14. Chapter 14

Han was coming in the room just as Mon was heading out in a rush. "Keep him calm," she ordered. "I'm going to go get the medics."

She charged off, grumbling something about medcenters that thought incapacitation of a patient meant there was no need for a visible call button.

Han came in and sat down beside the bed. “What’s going on?”

Anakin was curled up on one side slightly, eyes clenched shut and a look of utter pain on his face. He groaned slightly.

Han thought for a moment, then placed an arm around the ex-Sith’s shoulders. “Just hold on. The medics should be here soon.”

A young medic Han thought he had seen a few days before came in, followed by a few of her colleagues and Mon Mothma. Han stepped aside to let the medics work, giving Anakin what he thought and hoped was a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. He thought he saw Anakin relax slightly, at least.

"Well, Anakin," the leader of the group said suddenly after a short series of measurements and tests, "it seems this may be the only one of your current problems with an easy and quick solution."

"And that would be?" Anakin asked weakly as Han moved close again, putting a firm hand on a quaking pale arm.

"Your digestive tract just started recovering from being inactive for a while and realized how long it has been since you ate last. The discomfort and pain should start to go away once we get you to ingest something a bit more substantial than water." She murmured something to one of the other medics, who then exited the room. "We're going to see if you can handle a nutritional shake formulated for those either with extremely picky stomachs or those who have just been through digestive tract operations. Hopefully your system can handle it."

He nodded understanding.

"We hadn't really hoped you'd recover to this point this quickly. If you can't keep the stuff down, you can't keep it down. It won’t be a setback, because you're already ahead of where anyone thought you would be by now, and since the nutrient IVs are still going, it won’t affect calorie intake and such. We just need you to try."

A mumble only Han could have heard: "I'm a Jedi. We don't try, we do." His shoulders gave one large shudder as he apparently realized what he had said.

Han squeezed his arm, trying to show support. _The sooner his mind switches from considering himself ex-Sith to being Jedi, the better._

Mon Mothma walked over to Anakin's other side, placing a slender hand on his shoulder.

There was trepidation in Anakin's eyes. _He's afraid what happened earlier today will happen again,_ Han figured. _That he'll jerk away again, only this time with more witnesses than just his daughter._ Leia had told Han of the morning's near disaster. He thought he had his own form of a solution to the problem. _Just got to see if it'll work._

...

A few moments later, Anakin felt like climbing the back wall of the room, just to get away. _If only I was strong enough to... then they'd leave me alone._

He almost laughed to himself. _If I was strong enough to even Force-lev myself up a wall, I wouldn't be here in the medcenter. And they wouldn't be avoiding letting me know how Luke is doing... I don't even know if he's conscious or not!_ He felt tears start welling up in his eyes. _Luke..._

The medic had returned with the... well, the whatever-it-was. It dimly registered in his mind that Han was trying to get him to sit up, even if only a little bit. Mon had joined him after a moment or two.

It all just hurt so much... the ache in his mind...the burning agony that was his stomach... the pain of knowing that no matter what he ever did, he and Luke could never have a normal relationship...

He couldn't help it and let out a huge but muffled sob.

Something moved at the edge of his mind... and he suddenly found himself facing a very irate medic. _She's... Force-strong?_ The shock of the discovery stopped the crying outbreak temporarily and he found himself hauled into an upright position and braced that way by no fewer than two people on each side. Han had the large drinking bulb full of... whatever... in his hand and was sitting close. _It was one thing for Leia to try brute force, but this is something completely different..._

Han gently grabbed one of Anakin's hands, placed it on the bulb, and covered it with his own hands. "Anakin, we're just gonna take this nice and slow and at your own pace. I'm just offering a bit of help, but you've got general directional and tilt control. But you are going to have drunk at least some of this stuff before any of us leave this room."

He managed until near the end of the... _gunk. That's it. Gunk._ There were a few rough moments, but having control over the situation helped some of the ingrained avoidance that had caused such a problem earlier.

Then, Duria suddenly appeared in the doorway. Anakin yanked his hand up in surprise, covering himself with the remains of his meal. "Biggs told me to tell you 'Hello'... Oh."

Everyone, including Anakin, started laughing as Han and the medics tried to clean him up. Mon, still giggling – _I never knew there was a way to giggle and still seem dignified_ – excused herself from the room.

Duria and the medic were the last to leave. Han was going to stay for the first part of the night. Duria was about to head out when Anakin quietly asked her, "Has anyone checked to see if any of the medics on the _Executor_ are qualified?"

She paused, and for a moment he wasn't sure she'd understood, until he saw the slight quiver of hope that seemed to run through her.

"They were going to take a look at the latest set of scans tomorrow," the medic whispered loudly. "One of them thinks he might be able to do something – no promises, Duria, and don't you dare let it slip to Biggs." She stared hard at Duria.

"I understand." Duria came back into the room as the medic left. Tears were in her eyes. "If you hadn't turned back..."

"Duria, there are still no promises. No one there may even be qualified. And even if they are, there are no guarantees they can do anything for him at all. Or that anything they can do would work," Anakin warned. _Don't get your hopes up, Duria. Even if the damage can be completely repaired, Biggs may never regain the full range of movement and reflexes he had before. That realization will be hard on both of you._

She left.

 _12 more days and the SkyLords come._


	15. Chapter 15

It was quiet at night in the medcenter, particularly in the long-term care wing. Anakin was finally alone, after promising Leia he had no plans to spontaneously become one with the Force during the night and that the vital-sign monitors were there for a reason, along with the newly-placed call button.

It was dark and quiet, the closest thing to the proper atmosphere for deep meditation he was likely to get for a while. _Spending the night in a low-level healing trance certainly wouldn't do any harm._ He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

A knock on the door, then Kendalina, the Force-sensitive medic – _must remember to ask her about that later_ – stuck her head in the room. "Anakin? You still awake?"

"Barely," he yawned. "What's going on? Midnight bed check?"

"Nope. Odd emergency visitation hours."

Anakin lifted an eyebrow.

"Garlen Mohandai – the medic who's been keeping an eye on Luke for the past week and a half – just told me the general consensus is that the bacta's healed all it's going to heal and that they might as well let him spent the rest of his recovery awake and aware and out of the sticky tank."

"So he'll be awake within the next day...?"

"Probably within the next hour, actually. And, from what Garlen observed the time before when Luke woke up and what I and the others have observed of you, we're breaking the traditional 'no visitors in the crash rooms' custom."

"Luke was in one of the crash rooms?" Anakin lifted up instantly, barely noticing that he had just sat up on his own for the first time since the Battle of Endor.

"'Is' would be a bit more appropriate. Offered the best chance at care with the best security opportunities, since that is one of the deepest areas of the medcenter. Right now most of the trouble makers haven't figured out which of the 3 medcenters aboard ship you and Luke are in; some even think that you are on the _Executor_ right now, and both Piett and Mothma are doing their darndest to keep that illusion going for the time being. Guards wander all three medcenters here and all those on the _Executor_. We're fairly sure that the one gunman who has made it anywhere near you was originally gunning for Biggs, precisely because everyone aboard ship who has been with the Alliance for any length of time knows where Biggs lives."

 _He lost his inheritance and nearly his life because of me... If I hadn't been there..._ He settled back down somewhat, feeling tears start to form at the corners of his eyes.

Kendalina was staring at him. "Anakin, get your mind out of that well-worn rut right now. Thinking like that isn't going to help or even change anything right now." She started to transfer the hanging IV bags to the wheelchair-bed. "Just relax. Biggs knew what he was getting into when he started supporting you and he certainly knows how vulnerable he is. Now, can you shift yourself over and into this thing, or do you need help?"

He managed, muddled mind slowly understanding that he was being allowed to see Luke for the first time since everything had happened. Since they had been sedated on the shuttle. "How hurt is he?"

"The physical damage is mostly healed. There are a few new scars, but that was expected, given what he's been through. Mentally, he's intact. The one time he's been allowed to wake up before, he was fully lucid, remembered what had happened, and was quite worried about you. Probably going to need access to a psychologist or mindHealer eventually, but he's still got the mental faculties he entered the fight with."

"So, what's wrong with him?"

"Muscle trauma from the fight, probably manifesting as physical weakness and occasional random aches. That will likely lessen with time. And some very mild though systemic motor nerve damage. Whatever that Force-lightning he encountered was supposed to do, it certainly had effects that didn't show until after he'd been aboard ship. That damage wasn't registered until the scan just before we put him in bacta... and if we hadn't gotten him in there, it likely would have continued to get worse."

"And that's going to affect him in what way?"

Kendalina started pushing him out the door. "Slowed reaction times, at the very least. The only good thing any of us can find in it is that he'll be forced to not do things for himself until after the muscle weakness is mostly gone. From what we can tell, he's improving over time, but we are, quite frankly, unsure about how long that is going to last. No one's seen anything like this before. Then again, none of us have seen Force-induced injuries before."

Silence.

"Anakin? You still down there?"

"He needs someone familiar with the injuries he has and the methods that produced them. Unfortunately, the general galaxy known to the Alliance is currently devoid of people with such knowledge."

She sighed. "That would seem to be the case."

 _And the SkyLords may or may not have that knowledge. They weren't recorded as being in any of the major Darkside vs. Lightside wars of the last few millennia. Granted, there may have been wars I don’t even know about, but the chances are slim. So, there are no clear sources for such knowledge. Luke doesn't have much of a chance of skilled, Force-aided care._

She patted his shoulder. "Somehow, things will work out. He's strong, Anakin. He tends to bounce back quicker than one would expect when he gets hurt."

"He inherited some of my minor Force-gifts, then," he whispered. The décor of the halls they moved through was changing from intentionally soothing colors and shapes to something more utilitarian.

"You have a healing gift?"

"It's minor, very minor. And unpredictable. It always seemed like the more effort I put into trying to use it, the less it responded. I'm probably useless in this situation; I care so much about Luke that there's no way the gift would manifest itself. Even if it weren't so unpredictable, I was never given the chance to develop it or any medical knowledge to aid me in using it."

"Oh?"

"Basic structure of the Jedi had three branches: healer, fighter, scientist. There were elite members of all three branches: masterhealer, weaponsmaster, and labmaster. Elite learned from elite. Healers and scientists had specialized Force-skills as their dominant gifts; everyone else got lumped into the fighter category. I happen to be most skilled in manipulating energy from one form to another and just generally dealing with the stuff. Also means I'm good with electrically-based machines and have an affinity for working with and just being around droids. Piloting things is like breathing for me, although that's only partially related to that gift."

"So you've been a grunt soldier or a lackey all your life."

"Or worse."

They made a sharp turn into a narrow hall. "You sure you can handle this?"

"I need to see my son. My son probably needs to see me. Whether I can handle it or not is immaterial, as it must be done."

"Spoken like a true grunt soldier."

They both chuckled for a moment, until Anakin fell silent.

After a moment, Kendalina turned the wheelchair-bed around a corner and said in a very quiet and restrained voice, "Garlen?"

"No one saw you?" A head poked around a corner.

"No one saw us."

"And I didn’t feel any danger, although I will admit my Force-abilities are a bit jumbled right now." He blinked into the darkness, pale eyes seeing more detail in the darkness than most humans would.

Blue eyes had been bred into the human species for low-light, brown for the blinding light of tropical summers and the still-bright light of tropical winters. Generations upon generations had lived among the stars, and even after thousands of years humanity retained such traits. Eye color, in particular, had become even more varied over time, adding shades upon shades to the potentials. There was still a vast array of diversity in any given planet's population, but each world seemed to have 3 or 4 common shades and a sprinkling of the others.

On every world Anakin had ever been on, pale blue eyes had been rare.

On a few of the more primitive worlds, where tribal societies were making their first contacts in ages with the greater universe, people had pointed at him and called him a 'demon-child' not for his Force-powers, but for his eyes. Alien races making first contacts had often been more accepting of the too-tall, too-powerful, too-strange young Jedi than members of his own species.

But at times like this, in the darker corners of the big spacefaring ships that had been his home off and on for his entire life, they served him well.

"He hasn't woken up yet," Garlen whispered, "but there's nothing keeping him from doing so."

Another few feet, passing a desk covered in papers, datapads, and the like, and another turn...  



	16. Chapter 16

Kendalina really hadn't been all that sure what Anakin's reaction would be.

Certainly, she had majored and practiced for years in the field of psychology, but within her first few days around Anakin she'd learned no simple rule of psychology seemed to apply to him. He was a layered individual who never let anyone look past the top few layers, and that quite simply threw off any calculations she could make. Beyond that, most of her experience was with pathologies, not with mental recovery of those who didn't have diagnosable disorders. _Too bad I've spent most of my career in asylums, or I might be a bit more help._

The room was dim enough to avoid being a problem for the patient but just bright enough to make observation easy.

"You need to go when he falls asleep again," Garlen told Anakin carefully. "Normally, you wouldn't even be allowed back here. Hopefully in the next few days we can move him somewhere where we can let him have visitors more often, but while his condition is stable we really need to keep an eye on him for a while."

"I understand. Thank you." Anakin seemed even more restrained than he had been the first few days he was aboard ship.

Kendalina pushed the wheelchair-bed fully into the room and closed her eyes for a moment as Anakin made an undefinable noise that was exclamation, whimper, and moan all at once. It took all her limited and barely trained Force-strength to block the wave of emotions that rolled off of him.

She left the wheelchair-bed beside the bed Luke's limp form occupied, close enough that the two Jedi could touch if they wished. "I'll be back when you need to leave, Anakin." She patted his shoulder awkwardly.

...

 _Oh, Luke!_

Anakin struggled to keep from crying, knowing that the sight would be the last thing Luke needed to see when he woke. He'd known Luke was hurt – even without the Force-lightning, the fall he'd suffered during the fight should have broken bones. He hadn't been immobile in the shuttle, but he had clearly been in pain.

The younger Skywalker muttered something for a moment and tried to curl up. He was lying slightly on one side, propped up on a pillow. His breathing was even and his hand slightly moved towards Anakin in the mild twitching of injured slumber.

 _He's at least trying to wake up._ Anakin gently covered Luke's hand with his own, trying not to disturb his son but needing to both give and get reassurance. //Shh, Son,// he Force-whispered. //I'm right here. Don't worry; you're being well cared for, little one.//

Pale blue eyes, so much like Anakin's own, slitted open. "Father?" Luke's voice wavered, nearly failing twice while saying the simple word that brought a lump to Anakin's throat.

"Shh. You're not well yet; neither of us are. Just stay still. There's nothing anybody needs you to do anytime soon, other than heal."

Nonetheless, Luke pulled his hand gently out from under Anakin's, positioned it, and tried to raise up, just a little. He was too weak to even slightly move himself.

Garlen's voice called out softly from the observation window, "Luke, you aren't anywhere near being able to do a push-up, so stop trying. Officially, Anakin isn't here. You aren't even supposed to have visitors yet. And, considering the security issues involved, this may just be the dumbest and riskiest thing I've ever let happen in this medcenter."

Luke's eyes met his father's, sudden but controlled fear visible in their depths. "'Security issues'?" he haltingly squeaked.

"Some people don’t like what has happened to the world. Right now, no one who doesn't need to know has any clue which medcenter you and I are in, or even if we're in the same one. There's only been one attack so far that I know of..."

"It’s mostly the followers of Fey-lya's faction that are speaking out," Garlen added, "although Security's still trying to figure out who hired that one attacker."

Luke's eyes met Anakin's, seeking an explanation. "Biggs got himself into a bit of trouble by speaking in my favor, it seems."

"'It seems'? Anakin, you did see the scorch mark on that wall, right?"

Luke's eyes widened.

"He's okay, Luke. A more appealing target was available for the gunman, who is now in custody."

"But... why would you have been there? Even if Biggs stood up for you..." Luke suddenly drooped, seemingly having reached the limits of his current energy reserves.

Anakin gently turned so that he could put an arm over Luke's shoulder and neck in a makeshift embrace. "I'm not even sure I know what's going on in his mind, but he actually asked to talk with me. Fairly bad day for him, with the gunman and everything else, but it wasn't because of talking with me."

"'And everything else'?" Luke quoted in a whisper.

"He got a holomessage from a place he doesn't get to call home anymore."

"Huff wouldn't."

"He did. I was there when Biggs viewed the message. Duria'd left when I came in, so I was the only one around to keep him calm the rest of the day."

"How bad'd he take it?"

"About as well as he could have, Luke. Emotionally, he'll make it, from what I can tell. He wasn't hurt in the incident and he knows he's got friends who'll look after him here, no matter what happens." He gently ruffled Luke's hair; the younger Jedi closed his eyes and sighed contentedly.

"How're you doing, Father?" he murmured, starting to fall asleep much too soon for Anakin's taste.

"Fairly well, now. I'm surviving mostly on my own now; I'll explain later. Just know I'm doing okay and worry about yourself, Luke."

Luke looked at him for a moment, tired eyes squinting in the dark. _His vision's probably blurry; his eye muscles probably got a bit messed up as well._

"No mask?" he whispered, closing his eyes and starting to mental drift towards sleep again.

"No mask," Anakin quietly but happily confirmed. "Shh. We're both going to be fine Luke, but for now you just need to relax."

A few minutes later, Luke was asleep and Kendalina helped Anakin leave without disturbing him. Anakin was asleep before they reached his room.


	17. Chapter 17

Several days have passed.

Anakin and Luke both grow stronger by the day. Anakin is finally stumbling around for short distances on his own, while the medics are starting to consider moving Luke out of the crash room and into more comfortable surroundings. Both are being eased back onto semi-solid food; both are starting to wish the words 'strained' and 'mashed' could be removed from the collective vocabulary of the medcenter staff.

Biggs Darklighter has been transferred to the main medcenter on the _Executor_ so the chief medic there can determine if Biggs could be helped by medical intervention or if the nerve damage is too old to be improved by any procedure available or in a position even he cannot operate on. Even with the tentative information and cautions passed on by Garlen, Kendalina, and the other medics, those in the Alliance are hopeful, particularly the extended Skywalker family and Duria Rhyscandor.

On the day following Anakin's visit with Luke, he and Mon Mothma go over what both know about many systems known to be interdicted by order of the Empire. Based on their discussion, several nearby systems are marked as potential sites of the Emperor's personal prisons. Piett and Veers offer to send a few hyperspace probes lying in storage on the _Executor_ to the majority of the nearest of these sites; it does not pass without notice, laughter and quite a bit of nervous relief among the Alliance ranks that some of the same shipment of probes had hunted for them not a year earlier. The probes left a few days ago and the first is due to reach its target in a few hours, at about the time of breakfast aboard _Home One_.

The SkyLords are due to arrive in a week.

It is midnight, and the medcenter sleeps.

Some more fitfully than others...


	18. Chapter 18

It was about a week before the SkyLordish clan Clovindi was supposed to arrive at the Rebel Alliance's current position and Kalani Renalat was bored.

Sure, the mottled vision of hyperspace was interesting, but only for a little while.

Sure, the sheep in the pens beside hydroponics were friendly and her aunts always seemed to have a new variety of something growing, but she'd already been there twice since breakfast.

 _Hyperspace is boring._ She climbed down a ladder, heading towards the back viewport.

The other children her age were all training, preparing for the roles they would fill as adults.

She sat down, staring outside. _But no one wants to train me. I'm too weird. Grandpa's even checked among the other clans. And no one will teach even the most basic repairs to someone capable of telekinetic twitches._ She wrapped her arms around her knees.

 _It's got to be worse for that brainwashed kid. Didn't Grandpa say his room doesn’t even have windows? But at least there's hope the Alliance can help him._

She quietly cried herself into an uneasy sleep. A sudden sense of a comforting something came over her as she slipped into the dreams of youth.

...

Anakin yawned and stretched. There had been some sort of dream...

His eyes widened in shock. _Someone was shedding bonds. And I didn’t resist because I didn't realize..._

Shedding bonds was the most extreme of all unconscious reactions a young Force-user could display, taking the link intended by nature and the Force for one use, usually a parent-child or training bond, and throwing the receiving end of it into the general population of anyone willing to accept the bond. Breaking a shed bond was nearly impossible to do.

 _Who?_ He gently prodded the thin but strong Force-link, trying to find whoever shed the bond.

She was young, asleep, and calm for the moment, although Anakin could feel the conflicts and pain in her. It seemed there a desperation around her...

 _Just as there always was during the Padawan trials. It's a training desperation._

What have I gotten myself into?

He stretched for a moment. _No way I'm going to be able to get any more sleep tonight._

I wonder how Biggs is doing...

...

Biggs Darklighter stared up at the ceiling of the _Executor's_ main medcenter. It was a rather normal looking ceiling, smooth and evenly colored. Compared to many Biggs had seen, it was dull.

And over the last 3 years, Biggs had seen a lot of ceilings.

The Head Medic walked into the room. "We've finished the analysis, Mr. Darklighter."

 _Here it comes._ "And?"

"Chances of total recovery are from 5 to 50 percent, depending on how well your nervous system responds to receiving signals again."

 _Not good, but better than I had hoped or dreamed... I was expecting him to tell me there was no hope at all..._

"However, there is a near 100 percent chance that you will regain some physical ability. We were wondering, how much time have you been spending around the Skywalker clan since the accident?"

 _Why would they want to know that?_ "Luke and I have been friends since we were kids. He usually tries to spend at least a few hours with me between missions, but I haven't seen him much since right after the evacuation from Hoth. Anakin's been spending a lot of time with me recently... we're both stuck without very many people to talk to since the defection rate to the Alliance started to go up. Why?"

"Unofficial research. For years, we've noticed that every time a certain now-ex Sith Lord ended up in here for a few days, patients whose conditions had been getting worse starting getting better instead. Seems he's got a passive Force-gift for healing people around him. Being around him and Luke may have helped your situation from getting as bad as it could have been, because, quite frankly, the condition of the break site looks better than most fresh neck breaks I've seen. I'd give you excellent chances of feeding yourself again and better than even odds of walking without assistance after therapy."

"When are you planning on doing the procedure?"

"As soon as possible, if you want. Given that there's already been one suspected attempt on your life, completing the operation before anyone outside this medcenter knows you could benefit from it seems to be the smartest thing to do, particularly given the delicate nature of the operation."

"How long from now is as soon as possible?"

The medic told him.

"Mind leaving a datapad in here set to audiorecord while you're getting things ready? Something for you medics to send to my friends on _Home One_ once the operation is over and it's safe to let people know..."

"Certainly."

Within minutes, Biggs was babbling away into the datapad. About an hour later, the medic returned with a few of his colleagues and stood in the doorway. Biggs wrapped up his remarks.

The medics entered, turning off the datapad and assuring him that they would get it to his friends once the operation was done and he was recovering. They carefully explained to him that he was going to be heavily sedated for a day or two after the procedure and that when he woke up he shouldn't be afraid if he didn't feel anything because they were going to chemically block him from making any sense of such sensation for a while afterwards "or you'll have the equivalent of the worst case of phantom limb known to humankind. We're going to ease you into sensing things below your neck again, so your brain doesn't get overwhelmed and start ignoring the signals it does receive."

He told them he understood and they started sedating him.

His last thoughts before he slipped into unconsciousness were that the ceiling was in fact the drabbest one he had ever seen, including the ice one on Hoth. _Now that was an interesting ceiling..._  



	19. Chapter 19

  
The world was warm and soft and comfortable, with just enough light to not make him have to wake up...

"Morning, Brother."

Luke opened one eye slightly, then closed it again. _Different room._ "Morning, Leia," he mumbled.

"How're you feeling?"

"'m tired, and the IVs itch."

She sat down next to him and started trailing her fingers through his hair. "I missed you," she whispered.

"I missed you too. Being held incomunicado by the medics..." He shuddered.

"We all missed you."

"Where am I?"

"Suite in the medcenter. Father's in one of the other rooms, but he doesn't usually start moving around until after lunch. He moved in there yesterday."

"How's he doing?"

"Better than anyone would have dreamed. And he's been worried about you."

"And emotionally?"

"He was really grumpy yesterday, compared to how he has been. I don't think he got much sleep, and something was bothering him. He wouldn't talk about it."

Brother and sister cuddled close, basking in each other's Force and physical presences.

"Leia?" Luke whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Tell me about Mom again. Please?"

...

Anakin groaned and tried to ignore the not-so-subtle shift of the room lights from night-dim to day-bright. _Have to find some way to remove that later. Too much like it was... before._ The entire Jedi Temple had been wired to have such lighting changes, even in the medcenter rooms of those honored fighters rendered permanently incapacitated or even comatose by their injuries.

 _Need... sleep..._ Two sleepless or near-sleepless nights in a row, thanks to worrying about that shed bond. _I can't raise a child or train one. Me, breaker of the Jedi Code, teaching its lessons to an impressionable mind? Even if I hadn't followed Palpatine... I'm not suited to teaching. I'd do something wrong... accidentally introduce her to simple knowledge that the Dark Side even exists too early..._

//And you'd be more able to sense her leaning towards danger than most others of your generation, Anakin,// a somewhat-familiar voice responded.

//Why'd you say that? Not trying to be disrespectful or anything, and I'm appreciative of the heads-up on that attack last week, but she's got better chances not being trained at all than she does training with me. And who are you, anyway?//

//Oh, you've heard of me, I'm sure. There's some very nice invective against me in one volume of the Sith histories. Very nice invective against me in some of the Jedi histories, too. I'm one of the very few both lightside and darkside Force-users have railed against.//

//I still don't understand... I trained to be a fighter, not an historian, and researching anything having to do with darksiders... well, my suitemate Hannar got kitchen cleanup duty for months for daring to do a research paper on Exar Kun for an assignment on 'beings who shaped Republic history.' Claimed they were trying to teach him that even dabbling in knowledge of those the darkness had seduced was dangerous.//

//Is it, really?//

//Hannar was the first to die in the wave of strange Jedi murders and wrecked missions that preceded the Purge. He stood in defiance of Palpatine, knowing something was wrong. And knowing he was probably doomed to die for it.//

//So, learning OF the darkness can innoculate some Force-users FROM the darkness?//

//I suppose...//

//Tell me, Anakin, did you ever hear tell of a great female Jedi named Vima Sunrider in the generation that came to power after Kun's fall from it?//

//He's still trapped somewhere, isn't he?//

//Why do you think Palpatine was so angry after the first Death Star went boom? Tarkin had cost him his doomsday weapon and, had the attack on Yavin 4 been successful...//

//It was the Sith base in the Great War.//

//Kun's personal place of power. And it was where he was when he fell. I can tell you this, because what Hannar told you while he was working on that project and the little childhood rhymes he, Saman, and Kennet taught you from their disparate Force-strong culture is enough for you to have already drawn the conclusion yourself.//

//Kun built the temples on Yavin 4 to amplify the darkside.//

//Indeed.//

//And... oh, how did it go, it sounded so familiar when I first heard it... 'Kun's grave lies inside the stones.'//

//Destroying the temple his soul embedded itself in could set him loose.//

//So who are you?//

//Have you ever heard of Vima Sunrider?//

//Only that she was the greatest Jedi of her age, trained by a recluse from the Great War... ULIC?!? The guy who turned...//

//...while attempting to sabotage the Sith war machine and instead became second in the chain of command, then got blinded to the Force and shot in the back. Yeah, that Ulic. The only recorded Alderaanian-born Sith. //

//So why are you talking to me now?//

//Anakin, the girl you bonded to managed to fling a shed bond many lightyears away from herself with no prior training. You. Are. Her. Last. Hope. Give it a shot. You may have a gift for such teaching that you never knew you had.// A wisp of a Force-embrace. //Besides, who else can teach the next generation of Jedi? Luke won't be able to do it alone.//

//Because he isn't the 'Chosen One'?// Anakin responded with a mental snort.

//That prophesy is much more complicated than the version we Jedi wrote in our histories, Anakin, and as old as the Republic itself. But I can say no more, and stay no longer. You will find your answers, someday, when you are not looking for them. Goodbye for now, my fellow turncoat.//

The 4,000-year old spirit left nearly as suddenly as he'd arrived, whisping away into the depths of the Force where the living do not go.

Anakin yawned and stretched, drawing on the Force in an attempt to gain some resemblance to something that might once have known untroubled sleep. _Wouldn't do any good for Leia or Han to see me this frazzled. Or Luke... THEY ALREADY MOVED HIM!?!? Last night... I was awake and I didn't even notice... some father I am..._

A Force-bop on the head from the next room, followed by a warm Force-embrace, tinged with sleepiness from a still awakening mind. //Morning, Father.//

//Morning, Luke.// He returned the Force-embrace, then slowly raised shields in the precise manner that in Jedi etiquette passed for a polite and respectful 'I want contact but I need privacy' message.

After getting ready for the day, he carefully stood, stumbled in a controlled manner towards the door, and continued stumbling until he reached Luke's door and leaned on the doorframe, out of sight from anyone in the room.

"...and that's all I remember. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Luke, but I was so young... It's all bits and pieces and none of it seems to fit together. Even the snatches of lullaby I can remember come from 5 different worlds and at least one of them isn't even recorded as coming from anywhere and doesn't match any known style. I've looked. I don't know her name. I don't know what her homeworld is. I just know she's Mom."

 _They're talking about Padme. Do they really know that little?_

He stuck his head around the door, stumbled in, and flopped down on Luke's other side. "Her name was Padme Naberrie and I thought she was the most beautiful thing in the galaxy to ever walk on two legs."

Something strange entered Leia's eyes. "The same woman as in the courtship horror stories all the young unattacted noblewomen have been stuck listening to for years?"

"Not sure, but probably. More than a few would have seized on everything that happened as an example of why not to marry below one's social level. Then again, some of the ladies in the Imperial court would probably considered unrefined but passable table manners as a reason not to marry below one's social level."

"If Aunt Celly, Aunt Rouge, and Aunt Tia knew the kinds of people I'm running around with now..."

"If your mother and those she chose as confidants and advisors were to know the kinds of people you surround yourself with, I think more than a few of them would be pleased with your choices, Leia. Some of them would have been very pleased indeed." He glanced down at Luke and smiled, holding his sleeping son a little closer.

Leia moved to carefully get up. Anakin gently put a hand on her arm. //Just this once, no matter what the universe throws at us, let him have his surviving family around him.//

She smiled and settled back down, yawning.

"So, what do you remember?"

"Her smile... the smell of her perfume... the sadness that never left her eyes. She wasn't bitter... just sad." She snuggled closer to her brother.

Anakin wrapped his arms around both of them, trying to hide the tears that slowly leaked out of his eyes. _I wish you were here, Padme._


	20. Chapter 20

Han peeked in the small room and smiled. _Too bad I have to ruin this. But the news from the_ Executor _is too good for them to miss hearing._ He coughed.

Anakin's eyes opened instantly, pulling Luke closer for a moment until Han's identity sunk into his brain.

 _His first instinct... Wow._ Han hadn't doubted Anakin's return to light, nor his devotion to his children, but seeing parental instincts active in the middle-aged ex-Sith was something he hadn't expected to see for a while. _He's already adjusted to having his children around._

Luke squirmed, which woke Leia up. Soon, all three Skywalkers were looking at him. "Well?" Leia prompted.

"Just got news from the _Executor_."

"And?"

"Biggs just came out of surgery. It looks like he'll make at least a partial recovery. He recorded something on a datapad before they did the procedure that he wanted all his friends to hear, so if it's ok with you guy, Wedge, Duria, and the others will gather in the common room here so we can all hear."

Even without the Force, Han could feel the relief radiating in the room.

...

A few minutes later, Han had wandered out again. Leia broke the comfortable and relieved quiet of the room.

//Father?//

//Hmm?//

//Would Mother have... Would she...//

//...have disapproved?// he guessed, and saw in her eyes that he had been correct. //Leia, I can't speak for what your mother would have thought, but given the honor I've seen so far in his actions, I don’t think she would have had much of a problem with him.//

//Even though he's a scoundrel?//

//Scoundrel by appearances, not by heart. If he'd grown up under other circumstances...//

//Appearances didn't matter to Mother?//

//No. Many thought that she should have.//

Leia looked at him funny. //Why?//

//I'll tell you later, Leia.// He reached over and ruffled her hair.

The resulting mess of half-unraveled braids and loose hairs made Anakin want to cry and laugh at the same time.

"You messed up my braids?" It was a question asked with a smile and no judgment.

"Yeah... sorry..." He suddenly felt like a rodent... a flea... a dust mote...

She squeezed his shoulder gently. "It wasn't braided for the day yet , anyway, Father, so it doesn't matter." She got up and grabbed a bag she'd left by the door. "I'll just have to rebraid it sooner than I thought." She started to run a brush through her hair, then glanced around worriedly.

"What is it?" Luke asked sleepily, eyes slightly open.

"No mirror. I can braid it without one, but I have a meeting later..."

"... so it has to be done properly in something more complicated than a simple schoolgirl's braid," Anakin completed. "Which, I imagine, is rather hard to do without a mirror." He sat up, folding his legs under him. He wasn't graceful on his feet yet, but with a bit of unofficial practice in the kneeling katas he could remember, he had managed to get most of the rest of the gracefulness he had once had back.

She nodded.

He held out a hand. "Mind letting me try?"

"You know how to braid hair?" came the unison response. Luke's eyes were wide and Leia's mouth was open.

"My mother started having trouble doing her own hair when I was five or six and I started helping her. After I left with the Jedi when I was nine, I didn't get much practice for a while. Every once in a while one of my clanmates – Initiates and Padawans were organized into clans; I was in Deer Clan – would want her hair done properly for some festival or put up securely without pins for some tournament or such. I got pretty good at it. Your mother was a senator, and I got assigned to protect her just before the Clone Wars started. Some of that involved traveling unidentified in plain sight. She didn't have access to her hair-dressers, discovered my little talent, and the next thing I knew, I was getting extended lessons." He couldn't suppress the tears that suddenly appeared at the corners of his eyes, nor the expression he could feel tugging at his face, smile from sweet memories and grimace from bitter grief at the same moment.

He felt Luke grab at his hand, giving it the firmest squeeze the injured Jedi could manage.

He started to curl up, sobbing.

"Father?!" He heard something fall on the floor and a moment later Leia was holding him up, letting him cry into her shoulder.

He reached into the Force, letting both twins feel what he was feeling... well, most of it. His loneliness, his regret, his deep love for their mother... but nothing dealing with his six years on Tatooine as a slave. Not anything more than a rough glimpse of Watto's junkyard...

Bad move. He felt the flash of recognition from Luke. _He knows._ The still-injured young Jedi somehow managed to lift himself enough to wrap his left arm around Anakin's waist and cover a specific spot on Anakin's right shoulder with his own right hand.

Just over the slave mark he had borne his entire life. Through all the disasters of his Jedi training, being burned after his fall into lava, all the fights as a Sith against Jedi – and he'd only entered the fray as Vader after most of the padawans and initiates were dead, so most of those had been against were the truly skilled lightsaber fighters – and the fights with Luke, it had somehow remained intact.

Against all odds and reason.

Luke suddenly pitched, trying to catch himself by grabbing a handful of Anakin's shirt with his right hand. He was still having nerve problems occasionally, and he grabbed with the full force of the prosthetic hand. He kept slipping anyway; he just couldn't support his own weight, even with help.

There were voices outside in the common room. Anakin recognized Han and Duria's.

Just as the group of people opened the door to the tiny room, there was a ripping sound as Anakin's shirt tore...

... revealing the slave mark to everyone present.

As he completely broke down in a flood of emotion he couldn't stop no matter how hard he tried to control it, he could almost feel the raps on his knuckles both Shmi and Yoda would have given him for the language he was using.


	21. Chapter 21

When Anakin finally regained some awareness of where he was and what was going on, he was sprawled beside Luke, both his children holding him down and a group of other people, most of whom Anakin didn't recognize, looking on with concern. He didn't think he'd seen so many flightsuits in one place since he was a padawan during the Clone Wars.

_What... happened... oh dear._ "I'm sorry... I... I..."

"You lost emotional control because something you've been hiding for years suddenly got revealed right when you were already having a weak moment," one of the pilots he didn't recognize said in attempted reassurance. "And you lost control in such a way that no one was seriously injured."

 _"Seriously"?_ He glanced over at Luke and saw the growing bruise on his son's face. //Luke?!//

//You didn't know what was going on around you. I tried to offer what comfort I could, but apparently you _really_ don't like being touched when you get like that. You shrugged with your full weight, I understood the warning but couldn't get far enough fast enough. Everyone else got us far enough apart after the first real blow that you only smacked me once and it wasn't anything like a direct intentional blow. Funny thing was, everyone behind you at any point before you physically calmed down got at least bumped, but no one to your front even got a warning like I did.//

Anakin felt himself tearing up. _I hurt my son again._

Luke hugged him. //I'm sorry.//

//Sorry about what? I hit you...//

//And none of that would have happened if I hadn't ripped your shirt.//

//I should have helped when I started to feel you slip.//

//I shouldn't have even been trying to get up like that yet.//

Leia glared at them both and screamed in the Force and out loud "//WILL YOU TWO PLEASE STOP ACTING LIKE CHILDREN AND SHUT UP ABOUT WHICH OF YOU IS TO BLAME!//"

Jaws dropped around the room. Red-faced, propped up on one elbow, hair in even more disarray than it had been, Leia looked like anything but a princess.

...

"Before a few weeks ago, you were both throwing blame at each other. Now, you're fighting over who gets to accept blame. Just for once, can something be no one's fault? It was an accident, no one meant for it to happen, and the bruise will be gone in a few days. Sometimes, things just happen, for no apparent reason anyone can ever know at the moment." She glared at everyone present. "And I still don't know what started the whole thing!"

"Man, you really were sheltered," someone whispered.

Leia could see a glimmer at the edges of Duria's eyes. _What could possibly make her cry for him? She may not exactly hate him anymore, but still..._

Han, Wedge, and the other Corellians and ex-smugglers in the group had a strange hardness at the corners of their eyes, as if silently renewing something in their hearts and minds.

Even Wes Janson was solemn. He hadn't ever been solemn before that Leia could remember, but then again, she'd rarely seen him act sober or his age, either.

Chewie looked like he wanted to rip something apart.

There was something vaguely familiar about the mark...

Jabba's Palace. That was the connection. A few of the older tenders of the dancing girls and their quarters had borne that mark.

Leia's mind tried to refuse the connection. She swooned forward...

It seemed a matter of a few seconds later when she started to drift back to awareness. Anakin was leaning against the wall, her cradled under his right arm and pressed close to his side. Luke was beside them, pressed against Anakin's arm and the wall for support, holding one of Leia's hands in one of his own. The world still seemed to move and shift around her; she clutched at both of them, trying to gain some grasp on reality. Anakin gently touched the top of her head with his forehead, humming something that was only slightly comforting to the distraught princess.

After she had regained her composure about as much as she thought she could for the moment, she whispered, "Go ahead and play Bigg's message. Before anything else happens."

Anakin gently started working the larger tangles out of her hair with his left hand as Han started the recording.


	22. Chapter 22

*click*

I guess if anyone's listening to this it means you already know that the medics on the _Executor_ have tried to see what they could do. I asked them not to send this until after the operation was over, so I'm either in recovery or gone by now. The prognosis going in was good and I've known the potential risks for years. It was my choice to take this risk. Hear that, Anakin? Even if you're having to deal with Luke bawling on you right now because I'm dead, it was my choice, not your fault. And if my father dares come after you with a wrongful death claim, Duria has a copy of his formal disinheritance of me you can use in your defense. Luke, buddy, you know what to do if I'm no longer in this world. I trust you haven't forgotten.

First, what I want you all to know if I haven't survived:

Luke, you've been the best friend I could have ever asked for, both before and after everything happened. We're shooting stars who'll never be stopped, and I know that no matter what happens, you've got a bright future ahead of you.

Han, you still owe me that 200 credits on whether or not the first _Death Star_ would be destroyed. Pay Duria if I'm no longer around to collect.

Leia, thanks for hanging around so much right after everything happened and for letting Duria have another woman around nearby during those first few weeks. I think my pilot buddies overwhelmed her there for a little while.

Wes, I hereby order you to absolutely not throw me a wake. Can you be serious for one day, just for me? Pwease?

Wedge, thanks for helping find me and for everything else you've done.

To the rest of the Rogues, even though I've met some of you only recently and have known the rest of you for only a few years at most, thank you for not just letting me lie there and stagnate alone these past years. You made me at least have some awareness of what was going on, even if I spent most of my time on _Home One_ anyway.

Anakin, once again, whatever you do, don't blame yourself. Taking this risk was my choice, and as far as I'm concerned, the original situation was caused by Palpatine's political conspiracy to gain power over as much of the galaxy as he could grasp. Without that, none of the things that have happened would have happened. And thank you for saving my life when that assassin tried to kill me, and yes I know he was gunning for me and not for you. Even if it only gave me a week or so more in the world, the little while I've been able to hope there was a chance has been worth so much to me.

If everything went the way it was supposed to, I'll be in recovery by the time you guys hear this. I've been warned I'll be sedated for a while, so don't expect any news from me for a few days. The medics'll probably give you guys over on the _Home One_ some sort of regular updates. Even once they ease off on the sedatives, it will apparently be a while before they find out how much movement I can regain, so don't expect to hear anything about sudden miraculous recoveries anytime soon. And apparently they're going to keep me pretty numbed up for a while, so don't expect word of me twitching my toes soon either.

I hear the medics outside, so I should probably finish this. No matter what happens today, you've been the best friends I could have ever wanted or needed. Thank you.

Duria, I love you. I always have and always will.

*click*


	23. Chapter 23

The room was silent for a moment. Luke could see the wetness at the edges of Duria's eyes and would have gone over to put a friendly arm around her shoulders as he had done so often in those first few terrifying days when Biggs' survival was still very much in doubt, so much so that the only time he could remember leaving the medcenter from when Biggs had been brought in to when the first Imperial scouts had appeared on the edge of the Yavin system other than to eat was the award ceremony after the battle.

Biggs' medal was lying around somewhere in the small box of his things that Luke kept watch over for him. He hadn't been able to stand looking at it after he woke up, constantly breaking into tears until Luke had thought to remove it from the bedside table and cache it with Biggs' important possessions.

The box held the artifacts of the life Biggs had been forced to leave behind. Images of their old group back on Tatooine, grabbing what little joys the heir-apparent of the Darklighter water fortune and a simple farmboy could. Biggs' commission papers from the Imperial navy, from the short while he'd served on the _Rand Ecliptic_. The few pictures from those first days with the Alliance, before and after he'd met a young Corellian computer tech named Duria. Biggs' now expired pilot's certifications. His landspeeder license.

Duria walked over, purposely, tears starting to roll down her face. "I'm going to go to Mon Mothma and request temporary transfer over to the _Executor_. I wish I could stay here, but it may take a while for the request to go through..."

"I understand," Anakin and Luke said at once.

She gave Luke a friendly hug. "Thank you for being such a good friend. I hope things start going better soon for you, Luke."

She rose again and held Anakin's hand, said simply "Know peace," and left.

Chewie came over and ruffled the stubby little hairs just starting to grow back on Anakin's head. [When? How? Who? And where may I find him, so I can repay him for what he caused?]

"I grew up in a SkyLord family. When I was three, a slaver ship popped out of hyperspace near our ship. I don't remember much about what happened. First few months under Gardulla, then she lost my mother and I on a bet."

"Grandfather?" Leia asked, eyes wide.

"I barely remember him. Only the look on his face when they dropped out of hyperspace." Luke felt Anakin's arm move, holding Leia closer. "After 6 more years, a group of Jedi found me and I won my freedom in a podrace. They didn't remove the tattoo because it was 'a cosmetic issue only.'"

Han snorted. "There's still dozens of worlds where the sight of that mark would get you instantly added to a work team or placed in a medical testing center or something even worse. And they sent you on missions like that?"

Anakin nodded. "And considering everything, removing it probably wasn't high on the Emperor's list of things to do to his final apprentice." He seemed to deflate for a moment.

Luke dropped his gaze and thought for a moment. _All the master-slave language in that fight... Palpatine was using the psychological remnants to keep control! And there was almost a pattern of when Father called him 'the Emperor' and 'my Master.'_ Luke managed to suppress a shiver at the memories. _He only seemed to use 'my Master' when he was being forced to follow Palpatine's wishes, regardless of his own._

Luke looked up to see the expression on Anakin's face. Their eyes met, and he could see the barest hint of restrained tears at the corners of his father's eyes. //We'll talk later when they've left, okay, Luke?//

//Fine. Sure. After the others leave and Leia heads out for whatever meeting she has to go to. Some things that happened...//

//... no one needs to know for a while. If ever.// Anakin flashed Luke a quick smile. //I still can’t believe you tried to save me after all that happened.//

//Duria couldn't either.//

"Ahem," Wes coughed. Both Jedi turned to look at him and the other Rogues. "Wouldst thou please allow those present not educated in the fine details of silent communication understand what in the Maker's world thou art discussing?"

Father and son looked at each other, exchanged a look, turned back to the Rogues, and answered together, "Nope."

"Awww..."

"Give it up, Wes. I can't even tell what they're talking about half the time." Leia Force-lifted her brush from the floor, bonked Wes lightly on the head with it, and then called it to her hand.

Luke felt his jaw drop.

...

Leia pressed the brush into Anakin's hand.

She glanced over at Luke. His mouth was hanging open. "What?"

"How... Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"I figured it out. Same way I learned how to raise mental defenses and use the Force to communicate. Trial and error. And instinct."

//She needs at least some informal training,// Luke commented to Anakin.

//Indeed, but you are in no condition to offer it, and I doubt she will accept such training from me.//

//Wouldn't it be mostly mental training? I could handle at least the easier part of that.//

//Oh really.// Luke didn't think he'd ever heard his father sound so sly. It made him uneasy, reminded him that his father had used not only his physical strength but also his mind to hunt his own kind. //Name the major forms of the kata of Mikhail Fenren.//

//Who? What?//

//Ah, so even you have the working Force-knowledge without the historical forms.//

//What's a kata?//

//Traditional pattern of physical and mental exercises intended to provide physical, mental, and spiritual fitness. Meditation in motion.//

Luke drooped.

//Luke, you are a Jedi. Never doubt that, my son. That is connected to overall spiritual maturity and relationship to the Force. The katas were for maintaining focus and conditioning.//

Wedge's comm beeped. He stepped out for a moment and then came back in. "Rouges, we've got a situation a few systems away involving a transport caravan. Launch time is in thirty minutes, let's move." Rushed goodbyes, and Han, Chewie, and the Skywalker family were the only ones left in the room.

"Leia," Anakin murmured.

"What?"

"You may be able to do some things now, but you really do need some sort of semi-formal Force training, at the very least." He started brushing her hair, starting to split it into sections.

"I don’t have the time or the need."

"Leia..."

"I just don't have the time. So much is happening... defections, treaties, and Mon Mothma keeps trying to make me her next-in-line, so I have to be present for everything... And I'm a diplomat, not a fighter."

"A diplomat who can hit a target at over 200 yards without using the sights," Han coughed.

"Han!"

[It's true,] Chewie whuffled. [All those poor stormtroopers with little smoking holes in the one little weak spot in the armor chestplate.]

Luke giggled at Chewie's mournful tone. Han caught him in a loose embrace and started tickling the young Jedi's ribs.

//Life would be so wonderful if I weren't so weak...//

He caught his father's eye for a moment, and saw a worry settled there that he could not place.

Han stopped, apparently having noticed a change in Luke's expression.

Anakin flashed Luke a weak smile and went back to braiding Leia's hair.

Kendalina stuck her head in the door. "Just to let everyone know, I'm leaving in an hour to help clear out the Imperial prison the probe found. Garlen's in charge while I'm gone."

"They found something?" Anakin asked.

"It seems to have been there for the last decade or so. Prison for political dissenters, it appears. Some things in the data the probe sent worry me."

Han raised an eyebrow.

"Empire had a tendency to classify some types of dissenters and individuals dangerous to its existence as insane and then treat them as such. Most of the heavy duty asylums seem to have been built to deal with such people."

"How do you figure?" Anakin asked.

"I worked in one for years. I was transferred out and bounced from position to position for years after it came out that I was having a relationship with one of the inmates, who happened to be Force-strong and perfectly sane, barring the effects of some psychological treatments best classified as torture." She swallowed hard. "Since I have already dealt with such a place, I am going with them. The power readouts of the place tend to support the idea that similar prisoner treatment is going on there."

Everyone wished the mission well, and she left.

//Father? Did you know of such things?//

//Only the vaguest rumors. Never any proof. But the rumors were bad.//

//How bad?//

//Bad enough.// Leia breezed out for her meeting, Han following at her heels. // Now, when shall I start teaching you the easier katas? Some can be done seated or lying down...//

//Even injured?//

//There were some designed for that in the last millennium, after the Jedi became more closely aligned to the Republic government. The history lesson can wait. So, want to start now, or later?//

//...Tired.//

Anakin helped Luke settle back down on the bed and tucked the sheets around his shoulders. "I'll wake you up for lunch, if you want."

"Fine."

Anakin smiled down at him, then leaned over, tentatively kissed Luke's forehead, whispered "I love you, Luke," and stumbled out of the room.

Luke was nearly paralyzed with wonder. _He's never said that before... and didn't Leia tell me he can't stand touching anything with his mouth? Wow._


	24. Chapter 24

Anakin hovered into the main docking bay. He preferred a wheelchair, but for this the repulsorchair was better. He needed to move as fast as a man could walk, and he could neither roll or stumble that fast.

The young rebel officer who was the other designated translator walked over, holding out her hand. "I am Miram Nakcria."

{And I am Anakin Skywalker. May the One who created all things smile on our meeting, Miram.}

Her jaw dropped.

{Lady Mothma did not warn you that I am a native speaker?}

{No, she didn't. Native?}

He nodded. {Alend is my uncle.}

{Isn't the correct form address more formal?}

{The elder and more venerated a SkyLord leader, the more informal the address those under him use. I am his nephew, and I am traveling through his territory. Granted, I am not under him, but I will show him that deference.}

{Did Mon Mothma tell you we are meeting them on the moon surface?}

{Indeed, it is so.} He had been rather surprised to discover that the fleet hadn't moved from Endor. But the Empire seemed to be completely uninterested in the territory. It had no strategical value, no particularly impressive mineral resources, and even Anakin had no clue why Palpatine had decided to base the construction of the _Death Star_ there. "You ready to go?"

"Sure. I assume I'm flying?"

"I suppose."

...

"Must be strange."

"Hmm?" Anakin looked over at Miram.

"Being around other Force-users again, I mean."

"It's already been strange. This is just a new level of strange. I haven't seen Alend in probably 40 years." He leaned back, trying to relax. "How long until we get there?"

"Another half hour to an hour."

He nodded.

"Anything more about SkyLord politics and culture I should know?"

"There is a great stress on praising the Maker for everything that happens, be it ill or good. They are a very spiritual people. Expect it.

"The leaders of the clans are fairly independent; any agreement with Alend will hold for Alend's clan, the Clovindis, alone.

"The SkyLord people are very insular. From what I can tell, they have few recent contacts beyond their own people, most of whom are likely smugglers and others on that end of society.

"A very simplistic pidgin Basic existed in my father's clan. It may or may not exist among the Clovindi as well; for all I know, my mother may have been the one to bring it to my father's clan.

""Other than that... I was three when I left my people, so I only have snatches of memory and the mannerisms and instruction of my mother to work with. I wish I could tell you more."

"It's better than going in knowing nothing, Anakin. Thank you." She smiled at him, and he could not help grinning back.

And then he was falling, clutching for a handhold anywhere in physical reality and in the Force.

...

Death.

Fear.

Blind rage.

Every dark emotion known to the human species, and many only known to other sentient species.

All poured into a single point in space. One could call it a black hole in the Force, if only the word "black" were potent enough to describe it.

This was the stain left on the universe by the physical death of a Sith Master.

...

Anakin woke to find himself braced against the wall of the shuttle's tiny refresher.

Miram reached over to press the button and put a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "You doing better now? You blacked out for a moment there. And then you started whispering something over and over."

"I think." A wave of sudden fear washed over him. "What was I whispering?"

"Sounded like a mantra of some kind... Lot of repetitions of 'there is no...' but I couldn't catch anything else."

 _Great. The only phrase shared by both the Jedi and the Sith Codes._ "Where are we now?"

"The SkyLord's ship. It was closest, and it didn't seem like a good course of action to go down to the surface since I didn’t know why you got sick..."

{Such is fine, Miram. I am not injured, so far as I can tell, but I would prefer our return voyage not pass through the same part of space as we were traveling when I became ill.}

{May I ask why?}

{I have my suspicions and worries, but such things are of no danger to anything but the physical comfort of the Force-strong.}

{Then the system is still safe?}

{Indeed. But it would be prudent to warn both Alliance and SkyLords of the place, so that the Force-strong are not accidentally sent near that spot.} _If I reacted like that, I have no clue how violent or severe Luke's reaction might be, particularly given how much exposure he's had to Dark Side attacks recently._

A warm Force-presence entered the tiny hallway behind Anakin's back. _Who?_

{Feeling any better, young one?} The voice was eerily familiar.

Anakin didn't consciously remember ever hearing it, but spun around shakily, crying out without thought, {Uncle Alend!}

The elderly SkyLord, tufts of silver just beginning to overcome brown locks on his head, smiled and held his nephew at arm's length. {It is good to see you again, son of my sister. Once you get cleaned up and feel steady on your feet, there are others who wish to meet you.}

{I understand, Alend. And data to receive, as promised.}

{Of course. But we of the Clovindi Clan must welcome one of our own home, if only for a short while.} He Force-called a wet cloth to his hand and started wiping Anakin's face.}

Anakin closed his eyes in a mix of relief and shame. {Uncle, did you hear?} It was a child's question, meant to ascertain how much an adult knew before admitting a wrong-doing. _Oh please, Maker, don’t let it have been the Sith Code I was repeating. Please._

{I heard. And I have heard other things since. The people have not forgotten what a strange woman with hair the color of an old star taught us ages past as she searched for the Deep Ones. You are welcome here, Anakin, as is your companion Miram. Now come, I believe you will want a clean shirt before anyone else sees you.} A folded SkyLord-style tunic floated up behind Alend.

{I thank you for your forethought, Uncle. Some privacy here, may I ask?}

{Indeed, and I shall bring the wheelchair from the front of the ship when you have changed. Come, Miram, and I shall tell you enough of those ranking here that you may know them when they enter your sight.} The SkyLord and the communications officer wandered off, chatting softly.

 _Didn't expect that to go that smoothly,_ he thought as he removed the shirt he had been wearing when he became ill.

The shirt smelled faintly of a hundred little odors almost forgotten. Faded memories nearly overwhelmed him as he pulled it over his head. _It is good to be home._


	25. Chapter 25

Luke yawned, stretching weakly. He stared blankly at the door for a moment. _Father's not coming today,_ he reminded himself. _He told me he was going to talk with the SkyLords this morning._

He settled down again, closing his eyes again. _Now, what were the first movements of the kata he showed me yesterday..._

He had worked himself to the point of sweating by the time Leia came with breakfast. "Luke, you're still injured. You should be resting."

"I need to get moving again. Garlen okayed Father and I doing limited exercises together. We've been doing so for the last few mornings. He left for the SkyLords before I woke up, so..."

She set the tray down on a table and sat next to him on the bed, gently embracing him. "Just be careful, Brother." She kissed his forehead. "You've been hurt enough without damaging yourself."

"Any news from Biggs yet?" Luke asked as Leia retrieved the tray.

"Duria said they eased up on the sedatives yesterday. He should be able to wake up whenever he feels like it; now all we have to do is wait for him to do so. Vital signs and brain waves are normal, so they aren't worried."

"And Duria's doing well?"

"Yeah. She's getting anxious, but she should calm down once he wakes up."

 _I hope he can walk again._ Luke momentarily thought of the tiny box sitting in the crate of Biggs' things and of what might have been. _Biggs was ready to ask, and from Duria's reaction to the crash, she was ready to accept._

Brother and sister sat in companionable silence as Luke ate breakfast.

...

Kendalina sat, hands folded and fingers twitching. _Why am I even on this mission? I'll break down crying the second I see a sane prisoner with shock marks._

 _Too late to turn back now._ _We're only a few hours out._

 _What if someone there remembers me?_ Her blood ran cold at the memories of what she had seen and been forced to do while under the Empire.

 _Shh, Kendalina. You are going to help heal the injuries you and your colleagues once caused._

 _I have been a shame to my people, my planet, my blood, my degree, my raising..._

She started pacing the length of the tiny observation room, tears slowly running down her cheeks.

 _Trike_ _.... What did we do to you?_ She couldn't help but smile at the mental image of the young, handsome man who had captured her heart years before, when she had just been starting out.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head against the cold transparisteel viewport. _Trike_ _... I still love you._

...

It was strange to sit at the table of honor in the _Comet's_ mess hall, between Alend and his eldest son Conradin. Miram was seated across the table, between Alend's wife Jyota and a visitor from another Clan, engaged with a plate of some form of pasta.

There was a pidgin Basic present in the Clan, something that surprised Anakin because many terms were very current. The SkyLords were an insular people; before the attack on his father's ship, Anakin had never been exposed to anyone human who had not been full-blood SkyLord two generations back. It certainly wasn't complicated or nuanced enough for negotiations, but it was there.

Jyota and Anakin were laughing together between bites of stew, making simple but hilarious cross-language puns. Here and there in the huge room other bursts of laughter broke out, and there was the occasional strand of untamed melody from a musician who had grown bored waiting for dessert to come.

 _They are a joyous people._

It was almost difficult for Anakin to accept that fully half of those present had some form of Force-strength and that the laughing woman he was talking to seemed more adept in the Force than most of the Jedi Knights he had known when he was a Padawan.

 _We would have fit right in here,_ he thought sadly, remembering his suitemates from his Padawan days.

...

The world was a muzzy sort of nothing. There was rhythmic noise nearby, but it was washed out somehow. The air was devoid of smell.

He moaned slightly.

"Biggs?" Something warm pressed against the side of his face.

 _Duria?_ He tried to turn his head towards her voice.

"Shh. As far as they can tell so far, they did the procedure as well as they possibly could. They think you'll get at least some movement back..."

He barely opened his eyes, enough to perceive a blur of brown, pink, and blue nearby. "I love you, Duria," he mumbled as he closed his eyes again.

"Shh." She kissed his cheek. "Just sleep, Biggs. You've been through a lot recently and you need to rest..."


	26. Chapter 26

The ship carrying the Rebel force of a few infantry and various medics dropped out of hyperspace a few hours travel from a tiny rocky world. Kendalina stared out the viewport. _Something's there. I may not be able to feel much, but there's something..._

A flash of fear. Something reaching out, trying to hide in the Force. A whimper in the Force, followed by a wave of pain.

Kendalina dropped to her knees, hands pressed to the transparisteel. //Trike... you're alive?// Tears ran down her face. She suddenly understood what she had just felt happen. Shoulders heaving, she would have screamed if not for the questions it would have raised.

 _You knew what you might find when you came here. If not Trike, then another being treated the way he was._

He'll be helpless. He always was... everyone always was... If it comes to fighting...

Oh please, let him be safe... somehow.

...

Luke woke to the change in the lights from night to day and groaned.

 _I haven't felt this bad in days..._

He tried to ease up on one elbow, to start one of the simplest katas Anakin had taught him, but failed, flopping down on the mattress after falling the few centimeters he had managed.

Luke lay there for a moment, simply breathing and quickly getting scared out of his wits. _I haven't been this weak since my first few days outside the crash room._

He tried to reach for the call button, but he couldn't reach far enough or move close enough. Even pulling it closer using the Force failed—the cord attached to it was too short.

Tears leaked out the corners of his eyes as he tried to calm himself. _An hour at most and Leia will be here with breakfast. I can just meditate for a while until she comes, and everything will be fine._

It was then that he detected the distinct odor of soft sweet rolls, stimtea, and his favorite kind of juice. _Please don't tell me she just left breakfast here because of an early meeting._

He glanced over at the table a foot away from the bed, fully within what had been normal arm's-reach for the last few days.

There was a tray there.

With sweet rolls.

And stimtea.

And his favorite kind of juice.

And a note, clearly labeled in Leia's handwriting.

 _Great. So, she's not coming this morning, no one else is probably going to stick a head in here until lunch since Garlen always does patient check-ups in the afternoon, and breakfast is here but unattainable._

He tried to press the call button using the Force, but he was weak and his mind was unfocused.

The button fell, dangling somewhere over the side of the bed where Luke now had no hope of reaching it.

He tried to Force-lev a single sweet roll over to some place he could reach...

...and the entire tray fell to the ground with a muffled _whump_.

 _Not even enough sound to get someone's attention..._

...

 _The landing bay was crowded with medics and starfighter mechanics, all gathering around the warped hull Han Solo had dragged in on the underside of the_ Millennium Falcon _. She had started running the second someone had mentioned they were bringing in a wreck, but no one would tell her anything..._

She saw the markings on the wings and stopped still, in disbelief, as the world swirled around her.

Nothing mattered now.

Nothing mattered now.

The first wave of mechanics managed to get the hatch open and the medics moved in.

Nothing mattered now.

Nothing mattered now.

She saw them lift something out of the ship, limp and covered with blood.

"BIGGS!!!!!!!"


	27. Chapter 27

Duria Rhyscandor jerked awake, heart pounding.

There was a draft somewhere nearby, because her hair was moving even though the air seemed still... She put her head back down, trying to get just a little more sleep. The past few days of waiting and worrying had been exhausting.

Her brain finally caught up with her mind and she jerked her head up again. Blowing air into her hair had been a sign between them ever since those first days in the Yavin medcenter, ever since he had allowed her to come see him...

Biggs smiled weakly at her. "Hey."

She could hear the drugs in the waver in his voice and see them in the ever so slight goofiness of his smile. "Got enough drugs?"

He giggled, an odd laugh he'd had ever since the accident. "If I had any more drugs I couldn't talk."

 _He won’t remember all this the next time he wakes up. He's too drugged,_ Duria realized.

"You're pretty."

 _I could have some fun with this. If only I had a camera. This could be something to laugh at years from now..._ She tried to keep from crying and succeeded. _...with our family around us. If that's even a hope... If he was going to propose, he would have done it by now._

"You're cute. That brace isn't helping, though, so you must be really cute." She ran her fingers through his hair.

He closed his eyes and sighed. "Love you."

She cupped his cheek in her hand.

"Still can't feel anything."

"Biggs, they said they were going to numb you out of your mind. Even if you have made a miraculous recovery."

" 'm not that lucky... used up all my luck..." She had hoped he would get more lucid. If anything, he was acting more foggy now than when he'd first woken up.

"I don't think the Force keeps that tight a score with luck, Biggs."

"I met you... I lived... you stayed..."

"Biggs..."

"Plenny a' luck for any life," he slurred.

She smoothed back his hair, knowing she had no hope of getting him to listen to reason. He was just too drugged.

"More luck than I deserve. Done too much..."

"Biggs, you haven't done anything. It could have been anyone in that x-wing and you know it." Even drugged, he couldn't afford to start thinking like that. It had taken months for Duria and Luke to get his mind off that loop after Yavin. She wasn't going through that again.

She wasn't going to let Biggs go through it again, either.

She brushed his forehead with her lips. "Shh. It's all gonna be okay, Biggs. It'll all be okay, somehow."

"I tried to push you away..." A tear ran down his cheek. "And then I was so unsure, so scared..."

 _Is he even sure where he is?_

"...so afraid you wouldn't want me like this."

 _He's definitely drugged out of his skull._ "Biggs..." She could feel herself starting to tear up.

"...thought you wouldn't even want me as a boyfriend anymore..."

 _"Even"?_ Duria's eyes widened slightly in shock. _But... but... but..._

"...Wedge and Luke kept their mouths shut..."

 _Oh Force..._

"...maybe that wasn't a good thing... thought it was a good thing..."

 _What has he done to himself?_

"...Luke got my personal bag out of the wreck before anyone else could find it..."

 _Oh Force... Oh Force..._

"...kept anyone else from looking in it..."

 _Oh Force... Oh Force..._

He yawned, looking so cute and helpless. Well, he always looked helpless, but sometimes he was cute about it and other times he just looked pitiful.

"...prob'ly wouldnna said yes if I'd asked, anyway..."

If he had said that while lucid, Duria would have punched and kissed him in the same motion. As it was, she ran her fingers through his hair again and swore she would try to get his self-esteem a bit closer to where it once was.

"...and there's no money now..."

 _It was never about the money, Biggs. I was in love before I had even heard of the Darklighter water fortune. Even then, it only meant we could have a comfortable future together rather than just a future._

"...who'd wanna marry someone with no money and injuries like mine anyway..." Within seconds he was unconscious again.

Duria sat still in the quiet of the medcenter, listening to Biggs' quiet snoring and trying not to cry.

"I would."


	28. Chapter 28

Luke felt like he'd been lying there for hours even though the chrono on the wall only said it had been 5 minutes or so.

_It's going to be a long morning..._

He caught a flicker of movement at the door.

"Luke, you awake? Medics said there was some weird stuff going on with the vital signs monitors, like you were having the galaxy's worst-ever nightmare or something."

"lan...do...?" Luke felt his voice cracking as he spoke and he couldn't get any force at all behind the name. He tried to turn his head to face him, but only managed a few centimeters of motion.

Within seconds, Lando has crossed the room, grabbed the dangling call button, and pushed it so hard Luke thought he heard part of the casing crack.

"Help's coming, Luke." The elder man's hand comfortingly squeezed Luke's shoulder.

"thank... you..."

"No problem. Now just rest until they get here. No sense in possibly making things worse than they already are."

...

Kendalina ran through the halls of the recently liberated Imperial psychological-- _like anyone here was really practicing psychology. Everyone 'treated' here was a dissenter_ \--institution, trying to find where the Force-bond screaming at her ended in another being.

 _Where are you, Trike?_

She had almost given up. Her colleagues swirled around her, searching every corner for anyone who might be huddled--or bound--there.

She leaned against a wall, forehead against the cool surface. Tears barely started to run down her face. _Where are you, Trike?_ She trembled. _I felt you. You are here. You are injured. Where are you?_

There was a stirring in the Force on the other side of the wall. Faint, but there.

//Triclops? Is that you?// Her Force-communication had never been strong, but if he'd heard her thought...

The stirring suddenly seemed confused.

//It's me, Kenda.//

The stirring suddenly resembled the thrashing of a small rodent trapped in a cage.

//As soon as I figure out how to get where you are. Just hold on, Trike.//

She followed the wall down the hallway and around a turn. There was a door a little farther down...

She glanced through a tiny observation window in the door, gasped, fumbled with the simple lock--not even a lock, more like a simple metal bar dropped into a brace, and stumbled in.

...

Alend leaned against the nearest bulkhead.

{We should perhaps begin dealing with business eventually, my nephew,} he quipped, smiling. He had dragged Miram and Anakin around the ship all day, looking into odd corners, explaining things to Miram.

{Indeed, Uncle.}

Alend could see the regret on Anakin's face. _The fun is over, and work begins anew. If he recognizes that, then he really has grown into a leader. There is the time for enjoying one's people, and a time for ensuring that they can continue on in that joy for years to come._

{You had spoken to Lady Mothma of another translator, kin to you...?} Miram mentioned carefully. Her command of the language was still tenuous, but she was learning confidence in what she knew.

{She should be here soon.} Or not. Kalani was still young enough that any concept she had of the leading of a people and the needs of leaders was still covered in the ancestral human ideal of a lazy king on a throne eating peeled grapes and listening to music all day long. Being a leader, a real leader, was work and worry. Alend hadn't understood that himself until it was almost time for him to take his father's place in the clan.

Besides, she had not started training yet. No one in the Clan would train her. Those with the skills to do so already had aprentices--multiple aprentices in the cases of the better instructors. Those without the skills of teaching knew better than to attempt training the Clan leader's beloved orphaned granddaughter.

 _If only Abran and Omida had not died in that attack when she was small. Abran showed signs of having a strong teaching gift. Surely my son-in-law could have trained his daughter, and trained her well. At least the child was not found..._

At that moment, the child in question came barreling out of a doorway. //Sorry, Grandpa.//

//Sorry for what? You are on time.//

//But you were waiting...//

At that moment, Alend noticed something.

Something he could never have suspected.

A bond, light, barely even there, but strong as transparisteel.

There was an unconscious bonding between his nephew and his granddaughter.

Alend began planning, even as he spoke of the current true state of the SkyLord people to the Rebel ambassadors-in-fact.

 _Perhaps there is hope after all..._


	29. Chapter 29

He was lying there, limp and unmoving, on the padded floor of the observation room. There was a wet area near his mouth. _Thank the Maker someone thought to put him on his front with his head to the side._

She dropped to the ground at his side, gently touching his sense in the Force with her own. //Trike?//

He mumbled something in the sleepy half-conscious voice Kendalina had never been able to forget.

She softly brushed her hand across his shoulders, a signal between them from long ago. Something twitched in his matted silver-gray hair and she carefully parted the tangled, dirty strands to reveal the mutant third eye that had earned him fear and abuse even from those who had not known who he was, what he was, only what was in his file, the words that had fated him to a life of 'mental reconstruction'.

It opened partway, then fell closed again. The corner of his mouth twitched up for a moment.

//You're safe, Trike.// She squeezed his shoulder lightly.

There was a low wxhalation, like a sigh trying to be born.

"Are you awake yet?" she whispered softly.

The tickle in the back of her mind coalesed into something that finally resembled words. //Where am I? When is it? Nothing... fits... //

"An asylum. A few weeks since the Emperor's death. The pieces will fit in time." Tears sprang to her eyes. _He always asks that, in that order._

His face scrunched up, fully displaying unfamiliar wrinkles quickly becoming familiar. //What?// It was the most aware she had ever seen him be so soon after a shock treatment.

"Shh. Such news can wait. You are still hurt; it's been a matter of hours, at most."

He noticiably calmed, relaxing. //It's over?//

"We're getting you all out of here."

//'We'?// His face scrunched again, only slightly this time.

She gently lifted him into an embrace, hoisting one arm over her right shoulder so he could weakly hold her as well, and carefully scooted back into a corner of the small room, feeling the padding against her back. He stirred in her arms, pressing his cheek into hers.

 _Good. He's moving. Cohesive thought, muscle control, and speech should come back soon. Usual unusual memory recovery he's always had. Now, he just needs to regain speech and physically recover his strength._

She ran a hand through his hair, careful to avoid his eye. "The Rebellion. I found a way out of the system. The Empire is dying..."

//'Out of here'? To another... again?// He whimpered.

"Medcenter I run. Long enough for you to heal. From there, I haven't a clue. But if I have anything to say about it, this will never happen again."

Her shoulder was suddenly wet with tears.

"And I'm certain there are many others who will stand behind me on that. you are safer now than you have ever been, Trike."

//Kenda.//

...

It was dark in the observation lounge.

The ship had left the tiny planet hours ago. There had been a few hours of physical tests and file checking before they left, taking everything of use they could find with them.

Kendalina sat on the couch, staring at the stars.

Trike was pressed close to her side, weeping into her shoulder.

Someone--one of the aides in training to become a full medic, but Kendalina couldn't remember his name--had thought to suggest running basic brain scans on the inmates as well as normal tests of physical condition.

Triclops' had been normal enough that no one doubted his and Kendalina's relationship had been and was still mutually consentual. His Force-strength seemed to have protected him from the worst effects of the "treatments" he had been through in his approximate three decades of life, or so it seemed.

With one great exception.

Trike could think and Force-communicate in perfect Basic. He could grunt, whimper, moan, and hum.

But from all anyone could tell, he would never speak again.

There was extensivedamage to the part of his brain responsible for speech. And on first examination, it looked permanent.

Kendalina ran her fingers through his hair. "It's going to be okay, Trike."

//I can't talk, I still can't walk...// He was frantic.

"You've never been able to walk this soon afterwards." She kissed his forehead. "I understand you, and there are Jedi with the Rebellion who will too..."

//And what of when they learn who I am?//

"The Maker has brought us this far. There will be a way, Trike. Somehow."

Silence.

After a few moments, Trike leaned over on his side and curled up next to Kendalina on the couch.

//Trike? Felling sick again?//

//It's all happening so fast, Kenda. All my life, there were no choices.//

//I should hope _we_ were a choice.//

//Kenda, my love for you is so deep that not expressing it has never been an option.// The corner of his mouth twitched. //Even from the moment we met.// He was 'quiet' for a few minutes. //Now, everything is choice and all I know is the asylum. The others have at least lived on the outside before.//

She stroked his back, trying to be a comfort and wishing she could ignore the bumpiness of his ribs through thin cloth.

//What will become of me?//

She gently pulled him upright, letting him rest his head on her shoulder and huddle against her. "Shh, Trike. There will be a way. Just rest, my love. Let yourself recover."  
//'Recover'? You heard what they said...//

"There is also emotional healing, and physical recovery. Your wrists are thinner than they once were. All of you are weak and malnourished."

//What is 'malnourished'?//

"You haven't been eating right, Trike. None of you were. But things are going to be okay from now on. I promise."

His hand found hers. There was a gasp as the jump to hyperspace turned the stars into mottled shades of blue, white, and black. Both smiled at each other and watched the galaxy fall away behind them, hand in hand at last.

//Somehow, we'll find where the Jedi took our son,// they swore to each other. //Someday, we'll find our Ken. And for now, we finally have each other.//


	30. Chapter 30

Several days later...

Anakin felt so tired...

It was going to be so good to be back with his family, with Luke and Leia and their friends.

His and Miram’s stay with the SkyLords had been enjoyable, but it would be good to be back in the medcenter, looking after Luke and resting.

 _Somewhere, Jedi healers roll in their graves,_ he quiped at himself, then sobered.

After all, he had been the one to send them to those graves.

Miram was beside him, piloting. And behind him...

Behind him...

A very young SkyLady squirmed in her seat. How he had ever agreed to be her teacher, he doubted he would ever know, but there she was and here he was, and the bond between them had grown stronger with everyday they had worked together on her grandfather’s ship.

Anakin was thankful that the small shuttle was only that crowded. He had managed to calm and heal the young ex-captive the SkyLords had picked up in their fight with the Ssi-Ruuk enough for him to adjust to human life with the SkyLords rather than with the Alliance. _One less young Force-user for me to deal with._

...

They landed, and he hovered off before everyone else disembarked, meeting Mon Mothma at the ramp and explaining the situation. There were other ships in the hangar, a shuttle and a slept-back beauty he would have immediately circled and examined delicately in his younger years.

“You need to see your family. I will personally see that Kalani gets settled somewhere.”

“I should help her...”

“Anakin. Go see your family.”

Something in her voice...

...

Anakin wandered into the medcenter, cruising down the wide halls.

Kendalina and someone who looked like he’d been run through a Coruscant sewer and left to dry in the sun afterwards were in one of the glass-windowed exam rooms. _She must have just gotten back._ There was something odd in the Force, but he chose to ignore it. Certainly security had done their jobs, and there were more than enough other Force-users on the ship to sense any real dangers...

He entered the door to the main room of the Skywalker family suite and was instantly yanked into his own room by Han and Leia.

“There’s a situation you need to deal with,” Leia whispered, something between fear and determination in her eyes.

He felt his heart sink.

...

“Hey, Luke.”

The young Jedi woke, opening his eyes to find a familiar face wandering into the darkened room, scars and all.

“Father?” he whispered.

A nod. “I’m back.” The elder Skywalker rolled closer in the wheelchair he usually used around the medcenter, gently wrapping an arm around his son. “Leia told me...”

Luke started crying. The last week had been among the hardest days of his life. Medical tests, one after the other, and no sign of why he was almost fine some days and nearly as sick as he had been in the first days out of the crash room on others. There was no pattern, no apparent trigger.

And today had been one of the worse days of all. Luke had spent nearly the entire day either asleep or half-asleep, too tired and too weak to move.

Anakin pulled away for a moment.

 _Please, don’t leave me!_

“I’m not leaving,” Anakin whispered from somewhere behind Luke. The matress moved for a moment, and Luke felt his father stretch out beside him. He felt himself being flipped over, and then held close. “I’m staying for at least the rest of the day. The negotiations are complete; the Alliance has the information it wanted from the SkyLords. Admittedly, and I’m telling you this to be completely honest about everything going on, I somehow ended up accepting my mother’s niece as an apprentice-no one among the SkyLords was willing to train her, she’s powerful enough to cause big problems if untrained... and I promise you, my son, that I will try as much as I can to keep that from affecting us in any bad way. I’m not going to cast you aside, no matter how long this medical stuff goes on.” He gently held Luke’s head against his shoulder. //I wish none of this had ever happened.//

//At least... you’re light again and there is some hope for the future.// Luke wasn’t quite sure what he thought of his father taking an actual apprentice, but there would be time to consider that later.

Now...

Now he was semi-content to lay there, just crying into his father’s shoulder as he wished he could have all that week and through the years before that, the years when all was wrong.

//I’m so sorry if I caused this, my son.//

//I already forgave you. I’m not taking that back. Just be here. Please, Father... just be here.//

//I’m right here, Luke.//  



	31. Chapter 31

Han and Leia stood together in the lift, heading towards the hangar.

“I doubt Chewie can get that piece of junk to fly again.”

“I thought you were done insulting my co-pilot when you stopped calling him a walking piece of carpet.”

“I wasn’t insulting Chewbacca. That ship is falling apart.”

“The Falcon is fine, Leia. She’ll be flight-worthy with just a little more work.”

 _And a miracle, Flyboy. Not just a minor one, either. We’ve probably used up all our miracles by now, and Luke needs one a lot more than the flying hunk of junk does. Death Star, Yavin, Hoth, Bespin, Tatooine, Father... so many miracles the Force has given us._

The lift doors opened.

A woman in too much garish make-up, a loose shirt tied at the waist with a medallion hanging down around her neck, worn spacer-style pants, and low-cut boots.

“Han, what did I teach you about maintaining a spaceship?”

 _Who... Someone from some back alley spaceport that I don’t know about?_

Han rushed forward, and Leia felt her heart sink towards her feet.

“What are you doing here, Lady? I thought...”

“I was on the trail of something and the trail went dead. Perfect excuse to see how things are everywhere I haven’t been.”

 _‘On the trail of something’? Han, friends with a sell-secret or bounty hunter?_

“I thought... after I left for the Academy...”

“You certainly changed your mind about that, didn’t you?”

 _Someone from before Han spent a little while in the Imperial Navy? Before he met Chewie?_

Who is this woman?

“Han, don’t you think some introductions are in order here?”

Leia stepped forward, intrigued. He’s actually listening to her. _Who is she, anyway?_

“Lady, meet Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. Leia, this is Lady. She unofficially adopted me off the streets when I was barely a teenager.”

 _She raised him? This is the woman responsible for who Han Solo is?_

“And you certainly forgot everything I ever taught you about ship maintenence. Do you even have a diagram of where the wires run?”

Something about her, something that shone under the make-up and inelegant clothing, lent her an air of authority Leia had rarely seen in anyone outside of politics.

“Lady... the war... there wasn’t much...”

Han was backing up, hands raised in a meager attempt at self-defense.

“Han, I haven’t run anything in years and my ship is in better condition than yours. Can this... this thing... even fly? Chewbacca told me the problem right now is battle damage, but I doubt this hunk of junk could even fly into one!”

Leia couldn’t help it; she started giggling, trying to hide it behind a hand. _Everyone calls it a hunk of junk. Me, Luke... if Father saw it, he’d call it a hunk of junk too. Papa probably wouldn’t have let me anywhere near that thing._

“Lady...”

“I taught you better than this. I broke my own rule about traveling alone unless transporting people for pay, the one time I have ever broken it since my earliest days as a flying wanderer, just to keep you from becoming another bit of Corellian street grime. Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

 _I like this woman. I don’t know where she came from or what she’s been through, but I like her._

...

Leia picked quietly at her food. She and Lady were sitting in one of Home One’s mess halls while Chewie and Han looked over the Falcon, planning a complete overhaul of wiring and everything else. “So...”

“So hard to start a conversation when one person’s background is a non-topic and the other’s homeworld is a touchy subject, isn’t it?”

 _She has to have at least dabbled in diplomacy somewhere._ “Yes, and things have just been so hard to deal with recently, altogether.”

“Mind telling an old Lady about it? The bits that aren’t other people’s or the Rebellion’s secrets, that is. I’ve heard my lips can be quite sealed when needed.”

“You heard what happened on the Death Star, right?”

“Indeed. Quite an odd way the world has changed, isn’t it?”

“I’m not a princess by blood. I was adopted.” _Why am I telling her this?_ “Turns out Vader was my father and my best friend is my brother. So now I’m stuck with two hurt Force-strong relatives, a guyfriend who flies a piece of mobile space junk, and all the diplomatic nightmares that were already in progress.”

Lady leaned forward, acting surprised. Leia could tell it was an act.

“You already knew about Anakin.” Lady nodded, and Leia could tell she had just let loose something she hadn’t planned to. “How did you know?”

“Some rumor, from a long time ago. Some people I helped out decades ago.”

It wasn’t the full story. Leia sensed that much, but it was probably as much as she was going to get out of Lady until she knew the woman a lot better. _But who... someone who would have known something Luke couldn’t find no matter how many holonet searches he did. Could she have known...?_ “’Some people’? Who? Did... did you know my mother?”

“The first few cargoes I ever took included Jedi. They knew what had happened, in bits and pieces. And I saw her from time to time on the holonews.”

 _Of course the Jedi would have known. And Queen Amidala was a public figure. But just once, could the Force send someone other than Father who knew her my way?_

Still, Lady is the closest I’ve gotten. Acquaintance of an acquaintance close, but it’s something.

“Would she have approved?” Leia blurted.

 _Why did I ask that? What did I mean?_

“Of what? The Rebellion? The way you’ve chosen to run your life? Your senatorial record?” Lady leaned back, chewing on a bite of undercooked pasta. The food just kept getting worse as the war went on. Now, it was about even chances that what food the Rebellion could scrounge would be cooked properly or not.

“Helping Anakin through this, rather than abandoning him. Me and Han. Stuff like that.” Leia looked down at her own food, suddenly feeling embarassed. Why am I asking her that? I barely even know anything about her...

“From what I’ve heard, she kept believing there was good left in him until at least the last any of the Jedi I moved saw her. And I doubt anyone of her social rank who fell in love with someone of his would have a problem with a princess and a smuggler falling head over heels for each other.”

 _She... still hoped? And... I hadn’t thought about Father and Mother, but if she was a queen and Father was a slave before the Jedi found him... why hadn’t I already put that together? She wouldn’t have had a problem based on Han’s background._

But what about who Han is as a person? Would she have had a problem with that?

They both turned their attention back to their food. Even undercooked, it was still foodHan and Leia stood together in the lift, heading towards the hangar.

“I doubt Chewie can get that piece of junk to fly again.”

“I thought you were done insulting my co-pilot when you stopped calling him a walking piece of carpet.”

“I wasn’t insulting Chewbacca. That ship is falling apart.”

“The Falcon is fine, Leia. She’ll be flight-worthy with just a little more work.”

 _And a miracle, Flyboy. Not just a minor one, either. We’ve probably used up all our miracles by now, and Luke needs one a lot more than the flying hunk of junk does. Death Star, Yavin, Hoth, Bespin, Tatooine, Father... so many miracles the Force has given us._

The lift doors opened.

A woman in too much garish make-up, a loose shirt tied at the waist with a medallion hanging down around her neck, worn spacer-style pants, and low-cut boots.

“Han, what did I teach you about maintaining a spaceship?”

 _Who... Someone from some back alley spaceport that I don’t know about?_

Han rushed forward, and Leia felt her heart sink towards her feet.

“What are you doing here, Lady? I thought...”

“I was on the trail of something and the trail went dead. Perfect excuse to see how things are everywhere I haven’t been.”

 _‘On the trail of something’? Han, friends with a sell-secret or bounty hunter?_

“I thought... after I left for the Academy...”

“You certainly changed your mind about that, didn’t you?”

 _Someone from before Han spent a little while in the Imperial Navy? Before he met Chewie?_

Who is this woman?

“Han, don’t you think some introductions are in order here?”

Leia stepped forward, intrigued. He’s actually listening to her. _Who is she, anyway?_

“Lady, meet Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan. Leia, this is Lady. She unofficially adopted me off the streets when I was barely a teenager.”

 _She raised him? This is the woman responsible for who Han Solo is?_

“And you certainly forgot everything I ever taught you about ship maintenence. Do you even have a diagram of where the wires run?”

Something about her, something that shone under the make-up and inelegant clothing, lent her an air of authority Leia had rarely seen in anyone outside of politics.

“Lady... the war... there wasn’t much...”

Han was backing up, hands raised in a meager attempt at self-defense.

“Han, I haven’t run anything in years and my ship is in better condition than yours. Can this... this thing... even fly? Chewbacca told me the problem right now is battle damage, but I doubt this hunk of junk could even fly into one!”

Leia couldn’t help it; she started giggling, trying to hide it behind a hand. _Everyone calls it a hunk of junk. Me, Luke... if Father saw it, he’d call it a hunk of junk too. Papa probably wouldn’t have let me anywhere near that thing._

“Lady...”

“I taught you better than this. I broke my own rule about traveling alone unless transporting people for pay, the one time I have ever broken it since my earliest days as a flying wanderer, just to keep you from becoming another bit of Corellian street grime. Have you forgotten everything I taught you?”

 _I like this woman. I don’t know where she came from or what she’s been through, but I like her._

...

Leia picked quietly at her food. She and Lady were sitting in one of Home One’s mess halls while Chewie and Han looked over the Falcon, planning a complete overhaul of wiring and everything else. “So...”

“So hard to start a conversation when one person’s background is a non-topic and the other’s homeworld is a touchy subject, isn’t it?”

 _She has to have at least dabbled in diplomacy somewhere._ “Yes, and things have just been so hard to deal with recently, altogether.”

“Mind telling an old Lady about it? The bits that aren’t other people’s or the Rebellion’s secrets, that is. I’ve heard my lips can be quite sealed when needed.”

“You heard what happened on the Death Star, right?”

“Indeed. Quite an odd way the world has changed, isn’t it?”

“I’m not a princess by blood. I was adopted.” _Why am I telling her this?_ “Turns out Vader was my father and my best friend is my brother. So now I’m stuck with two hurt Force-strong relatives, a guyfriend who flies a piece of mobile space junk, and all the diplomatic nightmares that were already in progress.”

Lady leaned forward, acting surprised. Leia could tell it was an act.

“You already knew about Anakin.” Lady nodded, and Leia could tell she had just let loose something she hadn’t planned to. “How did you know?”

“Some rumor, from a long time ago. Some people I helped out decades ago.”

It wasn’t the full story. Leia sensed that much, but it was probably as much as she was going to get out of Lady until she knew the woman a lot better. _But who... someone who would have known something Luke couldn’t find no matter how many holonet searches he did. Could she have known...?_ “’Some people’? Who? Did... did you know my mother?”

“The first few cargoes I ever took included Jedi. They knew what had happened, in bits and pieces. And I saw her from time to time on the holonews.”

 _Of course the Jedi would have known. And Queen Amidala was a public figure. But just once, could the Force send someone other than Father who knew her my way?_

Still, Lady is the closest I’ve gotten. Acquaintance of an acquaintance close, but it’s something.

“Would she have approved?” Leia blurted.

 _Why did I ask that? What did I mean?_

“Of what? The Rebellion? The way you’ve chosen to run your life? Your senatorial record?” Lady leaned back, chewing on a bite of undercooked pasta. The food just kept getting worse as the war went on. Now, it was about even chances that what food the Rebellion could scrounge would be cooked properly or not.

“Helping Anakin through this, rather than abandoning him. Me and Han. Stuff like that.” Leia looked down at her own food, suddenly feeling embarassed. Why am I asking her that? I barely even know anything about her...

“From what I’ve heard, she kept believing there was good left in him until at least the last any of the Jedi I moved saw her. And I doubt anyone of her social rank who fell in love with someone of his would have a problem with a princess and a smuggler falling head over heels for each other.”

 _She... still hoped? And... I hadn’t thought about Father and Mother, but if she was a queen and Father was a slave before the Jedi found him... why hadn’t I already put that together? She wouldn’t have had a problem based on Han’s background._

But what about who Han is as a person? Would she have had a problem with that?

They both turned their attention back to their food. Even undercooked, it was still food.


	32. Chapter 32

The world was dark and close, as always. He thought he was finally getting used to it, the narrow tunnels that were nothing like the place he’d spent most of his life.

But at least he had never known the ‘sky’ the others longed for.

His friend was nearby, the only person he had gotten to know here.

Nothing he had ever known had prepared him for the day the lights had gone out and he had been forced to feel his way through the city as the troopers swarmed in.

Everything burned. Even if he knew the way out, or even where he was, there would be nothing to go back to.

Nothing at all.

He feels his friend nudge him carefully with an elbow and he returns his mind to collecting little fragments of spun spice with frozen fingers and the hidden power only he and his friend can use.

...

He has been here for an eternity, it seems.

The stars he once danced among are far beyond his reach.

The wind and rain he once worshipped as signs of the Maker’s power do not exist in his cell or in the planet beyond the prison. Even if he could break the chains, to step into the world beyond the prison would be a vacuum-filled airless death.

The chains once chaffed him; now, they seem like they have been part of his arms and legs since the beginning of his existence. They let him move just far enough to reach the tray that slides out of the wall daily only to disappear again.

He has begun to wonder if he is the only being on the planet that can think, if the systems that keep him alive have been automated all along. Certainly it has seemed an eternity since the Dark One came to gloat

He remembers friends, family, his wife and son, but they are as dreams.

He yawns, lying on his side as well as he can. As he thinks of the past in the moment before sleep, a single tear drips in the total darkness he inhabits.

And he dreams of a world he no longer belongs to.

...

Sterile durasteel and blaring laboratory lights.

That is all it has ever known, if something yet to develop a mind can know anything.

It floats in a tank, slightly bobbing and with nowhere to go, soulless and surrounded by other tanks containing others like it.

In form it is young, though it has floated there on invisible tides for over a decade, waiting.

Something changes, the tiniest impulse setting in motion a range of hormone drips long dormant.

On the outside, nothing changes in the closed eyes and waving brown hair.

On the inside, a soul has come to roost.

Inside a refuge of flesh again at last, it begins to seethe for revenge.


	33. Chapter 33

It was an hour later when Luke felt someone enter the room.The presence was bright in the Force but unfamiliar.

Anakin stirred beside him, raising up somewhat. “What is it, Kalani?”

“I was alone and everything was so different...” Luke was struck by the strangeness of her accent. It sounded a bit like Anakin’s, but what added a vague texture to his voice was woven all the way through hers. She looked at her feet. “I got scared.”

“Kalani, this is Luke, my son. Luke, this is your cousin Kalani.”

Luke finally managed to get a good look at her. She was young, clearly not even a preteen yet, and dressed in something slightly reminescent of Jedi robes and flightsuits all at once.

“It’s good to meet you, Kalani. So, you’re my father’s apprentice now?”

She nodded, still looking at her feet.

“Kalani,”Anakin rumbled from behind Luke, “there is nothing wrong with being scared in your situation now. You are young and untrained, in an unfamiliar place. You simply came to a place you knew was more likely to be safe. There is no problem with that right now. You are in a new place.”

She was still looking at her feet, but stepped a bit closer. “I’m sorry.”

Luke felt his father shift, both physically and emotionally. “For what, child? You have a right to my attention; after all, I did agree to let you be my apprentice.”

“Because no one else thought I was worth the bother. All I’ve been since my parents died is deadweight on my clan.”

“That’s not true. Your uncle thought enough of you to find a way to keep from becoming deadweight.” Anakin stood and stumbled over to her, bracing himself on Luke’s bed until he was in front of her. He knelt, drawing her close.

As Kalani cried into his father’s shoulder, Luke could barely hear Anakin whisper, “You are not the only one the raiders ever orphaned, little one.”

...

“So, what do you think of her?”

Han, Chewie, and Lady were pouring over the _Falcon_ , trying to figure out what should be fixed first.

“Pull out everything and rewire from the primary engines up.”

Chewie started whuffling uncontrollably, leaning against a bulkhead for support.

He could almost feel himself blush. Not that Han Solo would ever blush, but... “I meant Leia.”

“The Princess? Politically and socially way out of your league.”

He would not droop. He would not droop. He would not droop.

“But in her heart and eyes, it appears you are worthy. Isn’t that what really matters?”

“But will that change? She does have a family now.”

She spun around, looking at him sharply.

Something about her seemed like Leia for a moment.

And then it was gone.

“If she really loves you, it won’t matter. If it was just transferance of dependability, then it’ll go away.”

“’Transferance of dependability’?”

“You met her right after her world exploded. Nothing was certain. If she decided to use you as something to depend on in the absence of her family, consciously on unconsciously... then her feelings will fade as her closeness to her true family increases. And increase it will.”

Chewie put a paw on his shoulder. Han shrugged it off. “Is there any hope?”

“She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to rely on anything for long. The mere fact you’ve been yelling at each other for as long as I’ve heard rumors of is a good sign. I’d say there’s a chance.”

...

He stirred, blinking into the brightness of a small room (he could tell by the width of the ceiling). The tile pattern was oddly familiar...

“Feeling better, Biggs?”

 _Duria?_

Everything came back to him in a rush... the recording, the journey to the operating room, the medics telling him he would probably be asleep for a long time after the procedure because of the painkillers and numbing agents he would have to be on.

“Duria...”

“I’m right here.” She leaned over and he felt her hair brush his face as she kissed his cheek.

“What... How did everything go?”

“Do you remember waking up earlier?”

“No.” That worried him somehow, a vague discomfort of having lost time he had obviously spent with her.

“You were pretty druggy.” She pushed her hair behind an ear. “Everything went fine. The medics say you have a good shot at gaining some feeling again, if not motion.”

He tried to turn his head towards her. The brace stopped him long before the one he had worn for three years would have.

“Shh. Just rest. Let yourself heal, Biggs.You’ve got all the time you need.”

He heard her move and didn’t have to wonder what she was doing. Even after years of improvised embraces and displays of affection, Duria Rhyscandor had never quite been able to conquer her innate urge to hold his hand.

Hopefully, he would be able to feel it again someday.

She suddenly started crying.

“Duria?”

She was suddenly up and running towards the door.

He heard her scream “Medic, his fingers moved!”

It was then that his brain, unable to decipher the impossible inputs it was receiving, decided that taking a few minutes off of work would be a good idea.

...

“This should help with the last of the discomfort, Trike. It’ll only hurt for a second.”

//I understand.// He watched as she pressed the injector against his arm.

Flinch.

She held him close for a moment.

//That wasn’t that bad, was it?//

//I’ve never been able to stand needles. You know that.//

There was something odd about the world for a moment.

“Trike? What is it?”

//Remember the thing in my file, where I said the wind told me about an attack on the other side of the planet from where I was?//

//Yes. That was the Force, right?//

//Felt different somehow. I just felt the same. Like something was odd in the air. Not quite right.//

“Everything’s fine, Trike. Everything’s fine.” She helped him to his feet. “There’s a few people you still need to meet...”


	34. Chapter 34

Triclops was worried.

Somehow, what he had just felt... It was worse than anything the air had seemed to tell him ever before. Worse than the earthquake the day he’d met Kenda. Worse than the day of the attack so long ago. Worse than all the times he’d somehow known the ‘therapists’ were coming for him.

Kenda was leading him down a corridor to meet someone. She hadn’t told him who. He trusted her. She knew how vulnerable he was. She knew how skittish he was.

They turned a corner, and a man was standing there, a young woman stretching something across his shoulders.

...

Leia entered the measurement into the small datapad her father had requested. “That should be it. Need anything else from the storerooms?”

Anakin lowered his arms. “Not for a few days. It will take that long to know what I need.”

“What are you plannning, anyway?”

He spun, touching her nose with one finger. “My secret, for now.”

“Okay, I understand. Now, let me help you back to your room, Father. You’re still shaky on your feet...”

“I am doing better, though.”

She nodded. “Now, if only Luke was doing half as well...”

“The Force has a plan... if only we knew what that was...”

He straightened slightly, alert, and whirled away.

“Father?” Leia looked where he was staring and tried to ignore the way his hand dropped to what would have been saber-ready months before.

Kendalina was approaching, followed by the somewhat odd man who had followed the medic since her return from the Imperial base.

The next thing she knew, Anakin was wobbling forward, stalking like a wild predator and the odd man was backing weakly, eyes wide. Kendalina was between them, arms spread wide. “Anakin, down. Stop. Let me explain.”

“What’s going on?” Leia could feel herself backing up towards the wall. Anakin was scaring her as much as Vader ever had when she was a child. This was irrational, senseless. There was no way he could have met the man before...

“Anakin, he’s lived his entire life imprisoned in the Imperial mental health system. He hasn’t done anything to hurt anyone.”

//Kendalina, what is going on?//

//He’s Sithspawn. That was why he was put in the asylum in the first place. Palpatine apparently wanted him completely hidden but available, I don’t know why.//

//He’s...//

//Actually completely harmless. But yeah.//

Leia dashed forward, arms spread wide. “Father, stop. Let her explain.”

There was an odd breeze in the corridor suddenly. She felt her hair puff up, unbound tresses blown upwards by the breeze even as she moved to get them to lie down again.

Footsteps behind them, running.

Running away.

...

Something was moving nearby.

Luke looked up from his lunch tray. “Hmm?”

Someone was cowering in the doorway. He was in scruffy medcenter pants and a shirt, with unkempt hair.

 _Wasn’t he the guy Kenda had following her around a little while ago?_ “Hi. Isn’t Kendalina supposed to be with you?”

The man looked down, shoulders heaving. He glanced around, fear in his eyes.

“Something going on out there?”

Echoing in the corridors came Anakin’s voice with a tone Luke had hoped to never hear in it again.

“Hide. The bathroom door is unlocked; get in there and keep quiet.

He heard the door swing shut just as the outer door of the Skywalker family suite swung burst open and Anakin stalked through, followed by Leia and Kendalina. “What’s going on?”

//I was going to introduce Anakin and Trike. Unfortunately, Anakin sensed Trike’s family line before he sensed how hopelessly harmless and vulnerable he is.//

//What?//

Leia’s Force-voice cut in. //He’s Sithspawn, and unfortunately Father seems to have decided he’s a threat.//

//Is he?//

Kendalina broke back in, almost frantic. //Even if he was capable of defending himself... The Imps put him througn shock therapy only a few days ago. He’s lucky to even be walking, much less running from a ticked ex-Sith. As it is, he’s permanently mute.//

//I meant the other bit.//

//According to his medical files, yes. But since Mr. Mighty and Ugly never let anyone have access to his genetic code...//

//... there’s no telling.//

Anakin whirled into Luke’s room after peeking into both the shared space and his own room.

“Father, what’s going on?” Luke managed to keep his voice level.

“There’s someone on the ship that doesn’t belong here. Has anyone come through here?”

“No one matching that description. One of the medical staff came through with lunch a little while, but I’ve seen him here for weeks.”

“Okay. Call to me if you see anything suspicious.”

“I will, Father.”

Leia and Kendalina had followed Anakin through the door. “We’ll stay here with Luke,” Leia said calmly and clearly. The moment he left, they closed the door and locked it.

There was the audible sound of Anakin stalking back and forth across the main doorway of the common area.

Kendalina quietly eased open the door to the bathroom. She tapped a foot on the tile.

She barely mouthed, “He isn’t here.”

...

//Trike?//

He huddled in the ventway above the shower, trying to stay quiet. It wasn’t the first time he had hidden like this, although the last time had been months before he and Kendalina had met. The asylums hadn’t had vents large enough for anyone older than a young teenager. These were big enough to actually move around in.

He wasn’t planning on responding. Not until he was sure the big man was gone and not stomping around in the next room. Trike could still hear his mind, and understood somewhat. But everything was confusing and moving too fast. There were things going on he didn’t understand, not at all. He wasn’t used to this world, with everything changing and too many choices. He had wanted freedom from the world of his youth, but this was insane.

He curled up on his side, trying to keep the tears streaming down his cheeks from dripping onto the bottom of the passage with enough speed to make noise.

Maybe it would be okay to come down soon. He was hungry. He was thirsty. He didn’t usually notice much, because meals had always been on an unalterable schedule, even when he was a baby, but now...

Now it had been hours since he’d eaten because Kenda had been busy cleaning him up and treating the last of his injuries. She’d always had a way of forgetting her own needs, and now there was no constant schedule to remind her of his physical needs.

He started trembling. _I shouldn’t even be here..._

He recognized nothing in this place. He didn’t belong here.

This world wasn’t a place where he could belong.

Maybe he could find a way to get food. He’d found his way to food storage once when he was five, hadn’t he?

Triclops started to ease his way through the vents, trying to catch even the hint of food smells.


	35. Chapter 35

“So now he’s running loose.” Anakin ran a hand through his stubbly hair.

“And with absolutely no clue what he’s doing,” Kendalina confirmed, hearing the worry in her own voice.

“Now I wish I hadn’t reacted that way.”

They were all still gathered in Luke’s room, trying to figure out where Triclops had fled to.

He had been missing for over 6 hours.

It had taken nearly an hour to talk Kalani out of her barricaded position in Anakin’s room after she saw him in full fighting fury--and the fury part of the situation had certainly shocked everyone there. That was after the hour it had taken to calm Anakin down and make everyone in Luke’s room feel safe enough to let Anakin back in. The next four had been spent making sure everyone there knew exactly what was going on and trying to figure out how they were going to get Triclops back out of the vents.

“Yes, not acting that way would have been a smart move,” Kendalina bit out. “I was hoping you at least could help him adjust. I’ve already tried calling to him in the Force and he won’t answer.”

“Has he ever done this before?” Leia asked.

“When he was much much younger. Asylum vents are too small for adult humans. He doesn’t know the layout of the ship; he’s probably already lost by now.”

“He has to come down sometime, doesn’t he?” Luke asked.

“Not if he doesn’t feel safe. He stayed hidden in a pantry for a month when he was five, chewing his way through the grain meal and juice supplies. After that, he was moved to the adult wards. I can’t remember all of it. I never really wanted to look at that part of his files. He knows how to move silently and keep hidden in the Force. If he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”

“Don’t you have some way to track him?” Kalani asked. “Some scan?”

Kendalina’s hair tickled her cheeks as she shook her head. “He’s too good at hiding himself. Like he’s some kind of natural locksmith and illusion-master all at once. Unfortunately, he had to learn to do that to survive.”

“So we have a man who isn’t used to trusting anyone running around in the ceiling cloaked in every way imaginable without consciously knowing what he’s doing.” Anakin leaned back in his chair until his head thunked against the wall.

“Basically.”

...

“Medic Branag should be getting rather worried by now.”

Triclops blinked for a moment before he realized she was talking about Kendalina. _She has a last name?_ He had never heard it before. In the asylum only important people had last names. He certainly didn’t have one.

“I’m sorry. I meant Kendalina. I saw you with her when you where being moved aboard, so I assumed you were with her from the way she was smiling...” A warm hand touched his cheek and he wished he could talk, to explain.

The woman was nice. He’d smelled something and fell through her ceiling on accident. She’d been kind enough to share her food with him, even though he knew he was a mess. She hadn’t called for whatever form the asylum enforcers took here... hadn’t tried to get him to leave, hadn’t tried to force him away.

He recognized her; she had stood distant but visible when the medical shuttle had entered the hangar.

Whoever she was, she was important.

“You probably need to head back. Do you remember how to get back?”

He shook his head, blushing. He’d been so intent on finding food and getting away from the big man that he had no real clue how he’d gotten here. There had been several changes of level, but he hadn’t kept track on his fingers so he didn’t know how many.

 _I really need to learn to count._ He wasn’t even sure if he could. What if he was too old, or that part of his mind had been damaged so long that it didn’t look like damage?

What if he never could?

What if that was why he had been cast aside?

His shoulders started shaking, and he felt himself collapse against a wall and squeeze into the corner.

...

Kendalina’s commlink beeped.

She grabbed it. “Medic Kendalina Branag here.”

There was a distinctive sound of crying on the other end.

“Trike?”

“He came through my ceiling a while ago. I assume he’s one of your little lost former asylum inmates?”

“Lady Mothma, he’s... a bit more than that. Is he okay?”

“Bit on the silent and emotional side, but he’s fine as far as I can tell. I’m still trying to figure out how he made it through the security safeguards in the vent system.”

“Good.”

“Should I send him back with some of my security team, or would it be better for you to send someone over here? I don’t think he can find his way back on his own.”

“I’ll come over there with someone. I wouldn’t worry much about the security system, just make sure that everything is back to its original state and it should be fine. Apparently he ran off a lot like that when he was little.”

“Part of why he was in the asylum?”

“No. He’d been there almost since he was born. Give us a little while and we’ll come pick him up.”

She left the room Triclops had been told was his and went to find the others who were scouring what little bit of the ship Trike had seen in an attempt to find him.

...

“Kendalina said she’s coming to get you.” The sobbing mess huddled in her living room nodded weakly at her.

 _How did he end up like this? Nothing should be wrong enough from that age to require institutionalization unless it’s something a lot more visible._

This stinks of Palpatine’s involvement, or someone like him at heart. Would’ve had to be someone high up. Probably not even a senator could have done it, unless it was one of Palpatine’s synchopants.

Who would have done this? Why shuffle a child into an asylum, if the responsible party was that heartless already?

Who would have had a reason?

He turned his head for a second, following a sound from her personal food storage unit.

He had a distinctive widow’s peak under that short and wild hair. It was one of the steepest she had ever seen, save on one forehead.

A forehead she had seen in the halls of politics since the day she had entered them. A forehead that had been iconic in the last dying gasps of the Republic.

THAT forehead.

 _One more destroyed life the Emperor is responsible for._


	36. Chapter 36

Kendalina walked in. “Trike?”

He bounded at her faster than Mon could see. That alone gave support to her theories. He moved too quickly, too subtly, for someone who had lived life under the kind of control he must have. He was too physically in control of himself for someone who had likely never run under an open sky.

 _Has he ever even seen the sky?_

“Thank you for taking care of him, Lady Mothma.”

“It was a pleasure.”

...

//Well, how did you enjoy your little escapade, Trike?//

//’Escapade’?// Kendalina saw his forehead scrunch under his hair.

//Adventure. Usually a reckless one.//

He blushed, lowering his head. //She was nice. But he was really scary.//

//’He’?//

//Big, wide-shoulders. Yells a lot.//

//Anakin’s not that bad, Trike. He just got startled and over-reacted.//

//Over-reacted to what, Kenda? I was with you...//

She carefully moved in front of him, trying not to spook him. //Trike, what do you actually know about where you came from?//

//Someone important, one of my parents, didn’t want me and threw me in the asylum. People beat me up enough when I was little that I figured it was someone everyone was awfully angry with...//

 _Oh, Force._ //You don’t know.//

//Know what?// He stopped, stock-still and looking inquisitive and quite confused.

//Let’s get back to the medcenter...//

He followed.

...

Luke was curled up against Anakin’s side, propped up by a few spare pillows. It was the first time he had been allowed out in the common area, but someone needed to watch the entire suite and carrying him out there had seemed like a better plan than having over half of those looking for Triclops clustering in one suite. Besides, he’d be safe enough. Even though the gunner who had apparently come after Biggs was still completely unidentified and raving in a language that no one in the Rebellion could understand, nothing else had happened. It seemed to be an isolated incident. Besides, Anakin was slowly patrolling the closest of the exam rooms: the heavily secured one the asylum inmates had been moved through the night before and that morning, and well within screaming distance if the need should arise.

“I can’t believe I acted like that.” Anakin’s chest rumbled against Luke. Luke closed his eyes; it felt so good to finally have a father, even if he was big and scary from time to time and had done horrible things in the past.

It was good to finally feel like a son.

“How did you even figure out who he was?” Kalani asked.

“Force-sense and that hairline. Some humans within the Jedi Order did have high widow’s-peaks, but I’ve only seen one that high, that steep, or that pointy on one person before.”

Quiet.

Luke opened his eyes to find Leia pacing, thoughtful. “There could be a resemblance there. Not so sure about the facial structure.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.”

“Hmm?” Luke grunted.

“Ever seen the Senate tapes from the first Empire Day, Leia?”

“A few times. Papa...” She paused, visibly blushing.

“Leia, it’s okay. He raised you. And he did a wonderful job doing it. I respect that.”

She nodded slightly. “Papa made me watch it during the yearly holonet celebrations, pointed out how fragile democracy was, that it could die with such applause from those who claimed to serve it.” Luke could see the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “It was our little ritual.”

Luke felt Anakin’s hand lift off of his shoulder. A moment later Leia squeezed in beside Luke and Anakin’s hand lowered to rest across both his children’s shoulders as Leia’s shoulders heaved.

Luke carefully reached for both her hands and weakly held them in his own. Empire Day was a touchy subject. Palpatine had kept Alderaan’s destruction secret from the general public of the galaxy for nearly a month and a half, spreading rumors of various epidemics, natural disasters, and other such things to keep ships away.

He finally let the galaxy know what had happened on Empire Day.

Han and Chewie had been on a supply run, picking up a shipment of food for the new base. Leia was intent on continuing the tradition of watching the Empire Day holocasts, something very few in the Alliance ever did, and Luke decided to stay with her just in case she couldn’t take watching it alone.

The official confirmation of Alderaan’s destruction had also been Luke’s first believeable confirmation that Vader really was the strange armored man who had killed Obi-Wan.

Mon Mothma had found Princess and Farmboy in a tear-filled huddle. There had been something in her eyes Luke still couldn’t identify.

And she told them that even as the Emperor had been speaking to the Senate, the Jedi Temple was sending smoke into the twilight sky.

Empire Day was in another 3 months or so. Luke was losing track of time and he didn’t like it. Just because he was injured until further notice didn’t mean he wasn’t a Jedi and didn’t mean he had lost all the skills that had made him a good squadron commander for the Rogues. It didn’t mean he had to be completely worthless to everyone but his family.

Anakin’s hand squeezed his shoulder for a moment. //Wanna talk about what’s bothering you, Luke?//

//Not right now, Father.//


	37. Chapter 37

Trike followed Kendalina back into the medcenter and down the halls that were almost all he knew of the ship he was now supposed to call ‘home’.

She’d promised that the big scary man had calmed down. Trike had no doubts that it wouldn’t last. It never did. There was always one person wherever he went just looking to beat on anyone who had any visible vulnerablity. Sometimes it was a doctor, a shock-crazy inmate... one time it had even been the shock tech.

The last time, it had been the shock tech.

She clung to his hand, offering no easy chance for retreat. This was just like every other place had been, after all. The bounds of where he could move at will were just a little larger and they had their own quarters. Other than that, it seemed like more of the same. This place even had a bully. Now all Triclops needed to do was learn his name and learn how to keep out of his way.

Hopefully he wasn’t someone important.

“C’mon, Trike. Everything will be fine.” //I promise.// He hadn’t even noticed that he had slowed down.

Around a corner, through a door, and Triclops was facing a room filled with people.

He started trying to backpedal...

...and his back hit the door that had slid closed behind him.

The ceiling was solid in the room. All the doors Triclops could see were closed.

He was trapped.

And there on the big couch, arm wrapped around the man who had helped Triclops escape...

 _Did he really help me to help me, or was there another reason?_

...was the man who had tried to hurt him. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life the local bully had a buddy.

But there was something odd in the air, as if thought did not match reality. He’d felt that before, when someone he thought was trustworthy wasn’t at all, but this time it had a cleaner feel to it. There was something safe and pure about that feeling, something that left Triclops feeling clensed himself after merely touching it for the second it lasted.

He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t escape. He could stay as far away as possible, but maybe the big man wouldn’t hurt him as long as the man who’d already helped Triclops once was nearby.

Even after the meal with the red-tint-hair lady, he was hungry.

 _I’m getting too used to constant food,_ he thought. It was a simple survival thought; when one has no way to get food and no clue when the next meal will come, hunger gains a different quality. Harder to deal with in the long run, but less bothersome during short stretches. If one can do nothing to stop it, why notice it?

His stomach growled.

Kendalina was looking at him eye-to-eye in a moment. “I thought Lady Mothma said she fed you!”

//She did.//

The big man looked at him suddenly, head tilted. “He’s mute?”

//Kenda, what’s ‘mute’?//

//It means you can’t talk, and it’s probably the most polite way anyone can say it.//

There was something suddenly in everyone’s eyes...

Pity. The one thing he’d really learned to understand in the past few days.

Suddenly, there was the something again, the wind calling for attention. He didn’t understand what he was feeling, or how. It wasn’t the same as when Kenda spoke to him with her mind, or when they’d been searching for him. It was something deeper, wilder, less controllable.

Something far more dangerous.

He couldn’t remember what happened next, but he woke to find Kenda and the big man leaning over him, two women and the man who’d helped him sitting at the corner of his vision.

He freaked out.

...

//LEMME OUT!//

Anakin pressed down Triclops’ shoulders as loosely as he could. Something was going on for him to have passed out like that, and the last thing he likely needed was to run through the ship again.

//Calm down. I got startled before. I won’t hurt you now.//

//WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU!?//

//Because it had to do with why you were in the asylum at all. I understand now. I won’t hurt you.//

Something... it was like wind only not a physical thing... Anakin quickly found himself thrown to the side somewhat with the unmistakeable feeling that his most recent thoughts had just been skim searched, and clearly by an amateur.

 _He doesn’t know what he’s capable of, and that didn’t feel anything like most uses of the Force. Something weird about all this._

Triclops was lying there, suddenly sobbing.

Anakin moved close again, but Triclops did not react at all.

Kendalina moved even closer, pulling her beloved close. He seemed not to even notice that.

“Trike? This changes nothing...”

He looked up at Kendalina with dead eyes.

//It changes everything!// He tried to shrug her off, curling up on himself physically and mentally.

She just wrapped herself around him. “You are still who you were five minutes ago. Just a bit more knowledgeable about where you came from. You were abandoned by one of the worst people this galaxy has ever seen. Abandoned, Trike. Abandoned. And if I recall dates correctly, he was seeking an apprentice when you were born.”

Triclops’ eyes grew wide.

“If there was any sign you might have been capable of becoming what he was, he would have kept or killed you. But no. You were discarded, something of so little risk to him that you were not worth killing.”

He seemed to shrink.

“And I am glad for that, because otherwise I would never have met you.”

Their eyes met, then she pulled him close against her shoulder. He heaved against her, weeping, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

After he started to calm down, Anakin heard Kendalina whisper, “Ready to head home?”

Triclops nodded, third eye blinking somewhat under his hair.

Kendalina helped him stand. As they moved to leave, Anakin put a hand on his arm.

Triclops stiffened. Anakin could feel his shoulder bones shift.

//You need to learn how to control your Force-speech, whether you ever learn to speak again or not. I could hear everything. If I can be forgiven for how I acted earlier, I would be willing to help.//

An eye was suddenly staring at him from between ratty locks. //Why?//

//Because it’s the right thing to do.//

A slight brightening in the dark pit that was Triclops’ emotions, and he and Kendalina were through the door and gone.

...

A few days later, Luke and Kalani were pouring over a Level 3 Reader text while Anakin tried to work on the easier standing katas.

THUMP.

“Maybe there’s a reason the medics don’t want you trying that for another two weeks, Father...”

Kalani giggled.

“I’m fine, Luke. Just a little bit of balance problems.”

“Which is exactly why standing on one foot, eyes closed, and leaning forward is not a good idea right now.” Luke tried to pull himself up enough that he could see over the couch’s back to the open area beyond where Anakin had fallen.

He failed, slipping back down.

Kalani rose on her knees and peered over. “You look funny, Uncle.” She helped Luke pull himself up.

Luke quickly had to hide his mouth behind the couch.

Anakin was nearly spread-eagle on the floor, back of his shirt flipped over onto his head.

And then one of the chair cushions flew into the back of Luke’s head.

Within seconds, a full Force-propelled pillow war was on.

A few minutes later, Han took a bedpillow to the stomach as he entered the room.

Followed by a friend.

She looked tough and was dressed roughly like most of the female spacers Luke had ever encountered. She was relatively unflamboyant, but would have blended into almost any cantina in the galaxy. Luke could tell that under the garish make-up she was a pretty woman, if gaining somewhat in years. There was the slightest salting in her hair.

Han straightened, hurling the pillow at Anakin who had curled up against the room’s chair, laughing. “Lady, this is Anakin, Luke, and Kalani. Big Guy, Kid, and SkyLadyette, this is Lady, the person who got me off of the streets.

“Greetings.” Kalani’s voice was, as usual, full of accent.

“Welcome, Lady,” Anakin laughed with a respectful nod her direction.

“Hi.” Luke barely managed the word. He’d planned on something a bit more respectful, a bit more welcoming... but there was something... something...

“So, you are the young Padawan I’ve heard so much about. Or are you a full Jedi now?”

“A full Jedi since the battle,” Anakin answered for him, pride dripping from his voice.

“Quite a feat for one such as you, facing a Sith Master in his den.” She smiled at him. “Jedi Masters older and more experienced than you fell to him in combat, or so I was told long ago.”

Luke smiled back. “Thank you, Lady, but I almost did fall.” _In more ways than one._

Something entered her eyes for a moment...

“You are still recovering? But it has been nearly two months. Even without medical tech...”

“Han,” Anakin called out, “she trustworthy, or trustworthy-trustworthy?”

“Known throughout the galaxy for keeping her mouth shut, and also known as having snuck a good number of Jedi out of Coruscant without Wrinkles hearing anything about it. I doubt she could hold anything against Luke if she tried.”

Anakin nodded. “I am sorry for questioning like this, Lady, but we do not know you as Han does... and there is a certain level of vulnerability here.”

“I know,” and there was a hesitation, “Turnback. And it is more than understandable. But what is going on here?”

“Force-lightning.” Luke barely choked the word out. “I took down my guard in an effort to survive, and... and...”

Anakin stumbled over as the world grew blurry. “...And that’s when I turned back,” he rumbled as he wrapped his arms around his son.

Luke didn’t know why he was reacting like this. He’d talked about the _Death Star_ before without completely breaking down, and now he brought all his Force skills to bear and still couldn’t stop the world from going fuzzy.

There was a gasp. “How long? One blast? Seconds?”

“Minutes. And he was aiming to kill.”

Pause.

Pause.

“And you live!?”

Luke nodded.

“Then you probably won’t fully heal on your own. I think I may know someone who might just know something that could help. No promises.”

Luke looked towards her, mind full of all the things he’d always hoped to do once the Empire fell. “Please.”

Lady left _Home One_ within the hour.


	38. Chapter 38

Luke shook his head as he looked out the viewport. “If anyone a year ago had told me I'd be here...”

Piett chuckled.

Soon after Lady's departure, Mon Mothma had offered to allow the Jedi to use the Rebellion's one Super Star Destroyer as a homebase. They were fully moved in now, some three months later.

Given how desperately they were waiting for Lady's return, it might as well have been years from Luke's point of view.

Luke shook his head. They were waiting for a Lady on a Lady, for despite the recommissioning of the ship she was still the _Lady Ex_ – the _Extant_ , a fit for the ship, her residents – Jedi, ex-Imperial, and assorted others who needed to be safe away from the battle lines and yet did not need to be on _Home One_ – and the entire Rebellion itself.

“I'd have told them they were delusional,” Piett finished for him. “A Jedi, running loose in the _Lady Ex_ , on the bridge? No way it could ever happen.”

Luke moved his repulsorchair a little closer to where the transparisteel viewport met the decking.

“I told you this was a view you needed to have at least once.”

They were nowhere quite literally, taking advantage of the ship's dark color to drift in the empty spaces between planets in an uninhabited system. The dark triangle of the ship blocked the stars below and cut a wedge from the local gas giant.

Luke grinned.

...

Anakin sat in one of the ship's many mess halls.

He hadn't thought he'd be okay with being back on the _Lady Ex_ , but it did oddly feel like home. Certain hardware had, of course, been removed, and the space it had occupied converted to other purposes. The storage areas his old quarters had replaced had now been refitted to provide training rooms for Jedi.

Kalani was trying to explain to Triclops just how an Idiot's Array could beat a Sabacc containing the Queen of Air and Darkness. Han had been visited by the crazy idea that learning Sabacc could help teach the man how to count, and the idea had been crazy enough to actually work – after a fashion. Anakin had made Kalani help as a practice of her Force-communication skills and as an exercise in patience, and he'd been participating to keep his mind off other things.

Waiting. Luke's condition, which had stabilized but was still His Fault. Kendalina leaving all of them from time to time to help clear out places like where she'd found Trike, as she was currently doing. Han and Leia being involved in a new mission off somewhere right now, so delicate that he didn't even know what sort of thing his daughter was now off doing. His not being able to do anything but sit around and follow Ulic's ghost's instruction to help with the new generation of Force-users, because no one was going to risk the most trained Jedi the Rebellion had on anything less than a complete and total requirement for the Rebellion's survival, and it was thankfully not likely that would happen soon.

He was also surprised at how well he had adapted to having Trike around, but then again, the man hadn't had any more choice about his heritage than Luke did, and had fewer choices about how to handle what had happened to him.

It wasn't like Luke's injuries led anyone to question his intelligence, after all.

The human mind even when undamaged wasn't designed to learn things at thirty that it was supposed to have learned at five.

He yawned and sipped his caf.

…

It was a big galaxy, and there were many places to hide things. This was most noticeable when one had something to find. Particularly when one only had the slightest clue where to begin looking.

There had only been rumors, but they were nasty ones. Even Anakin had only enough information to prove the rumors were right.

The Rebellion had been collecting information whenever they could for years. A few weeks ago, it had finally been enough. Enough to know the system, enough to send a probe.

Enough for the probe to tell them there were few life-signs, and weak ones at that. Enough to know that there were no blaster cannon, no turbolasers… just enough technology to barely sustain what little life was present there.

Princess Leia was sitting in the big copilot’s chair on the _Falcon_ , watching the hyperspace starlines go by with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders as much for the comfort as for the warmth.

A place of nightmares, rumors held. A place often spoken of with names for all the hells sentient beings had ever spoken of.

Someone high enough in the hierarchy needed to be there, to let the people they were rescuing know they hadn’t been merely stumbled upon, but had been searched for. The last princess of Alderaan was the best that could be spared for the time needed, and who knew who of her people might still be there, not knowing…

She shivered.

Chewbacca walked in and rumbled at her.

“Do you want your seat back?” she asked. “I needed to be alone and watch the stars, and you know how Han gets about his pilot’s chair…”

Chewbacca shook his head and placed a furry paw on her shoulder.

“I’ll be fine. I just wish I knew what we were going to find there, and as soon as we get there I’m going to wish I would never find out.”

He nodded and yowled mournfully. Somewhere back in the main ship, she heard Threepio fussing with something.

This was not going to be a pleasant trip, even given that she wasn’t on their companion vessel, the one that actually had the heavy-duty medical facilities aboard. The _Falcon_ cold easily have fit in its hold, and then she would have been stuck listening to the medical preparations as well as mentally running through all the contacts who had disappeared since the Rebellion had begun in senators’ personal residences, ever since the whispers had grown into action.

And Han wasn’t even joking around enough to keep his own spirits up, much less help her, not that she could blame him for it.

At best, they would find live beings, damaged within repair. She wasn’t sure whether the worst case was finding live beings beyond repair or finding them dead instead.

She didn’t like thinking like this. She didn’t like thinking like this at all.

And there was still a week left before they reached the system and landed on the planet.

…

“Oh come on, it’s not like you aren’t going to be figured out eventually,” Sala argued from the usually-abandoned co-pilot’s chair in her friend’s ship.

Her friend. She certainly had few enough of them, even in the little settlement of refugees she helped lead. She was taking a risk by arguing, but her companion was just being stupid-headed right now, owner and pilot of the ship or not.

“And when it happens it happens. There’s who knows what still running around. Including, might I add, that shipment I’ve been trying to track for Force-only-knows how many years now. And you know full well…”

She raised her chin. “I do know full well what use he might have made of them. But you’ve said it yourself: the trail is cold. Cold enough that you’ve used all of your last three months finding me instead of looking for them… and yes I do understand that I am greatly _needed_ at the moment, or I would not have come. I enjoy my existence under a name I chose and away from my past.” She tucked a few strands of wayward red hair behind an ear. “And yet the shadows of it keep calling upon my doorstep,” she grumbled.

“I don’t like this, either.” She stared out the viewport, her makeup off for once though she still, as always, wore the Force-blocking medallion that Sala had given her years ago.

Her other necklace was out in the open, visible, and she was fiddling with it as she never would have dared around anyone else.

“You know, there may be no way around revealing yourself this time.”

An offended stare.

“If someone recognizes me before I can help that young brave Jedi I’ve been hearing oh so much about, then you may have to pull your birth identity out of storage for me to help him. Or have you not considered that?”

She tugged on the necklace. “I hope not.”

“There are very few other options. I doubt any of the true matriarchs of my family will help you one bit, and I know the Grand Matriarch won’t. Hardly anyone else has the skill set required. And above all, you know none of them, and they don’t have the experiences required to pity the boy.”

“’Pity’?”

“Empathize, then, if it eases your mind. He walked into the path of a thunderstorm with no clue what he was facing.” Sala leaned back, listening inside to the swirl of the universe, trying to read what was coming. “Force lightning’s dangerous enough in normal form. Yoda saw that; his battle with the old man was proper Sith vs. Jedi. This was different: spite, pure spite, and from someone with a Force-power affinity for that meteorological element.”

She looked away again with a shiver. “That’s enough, Sala.”

Sala nodded in response, then raised an eyebrow. “Do they know we’re coming?”

**Author's Note:**

> The swamp-fly analogy comes from JediGaladriel's _Father's Heart_ , which can be found in the FanFiction Archives on theforce.net. I have her permission to use it in this fic.


End file.
